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Hilary Tamar #3
The Sirens Sang of Murder
Young barrister Michael Cantrip has skipped off to the Channel Islands to take on a tax-law case that's worth a fortune -- if Cantrip's tax-planning cronies can locate the missing heir. But Cantrip has waded in way over his head. Strange things are happening on these mysterious, isolated isles. Something is going bump in the night -- and bumping off members of the legal team, one by one. Soon Cantrip is telexing the gang at the home office for help. And it's up to amateur investigator Hilary Tamar (Oxford don turned supersleuth) to get Cantrip back to the safety of his chambers -- alive!
277 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published October 1, 1989
107 people are currently reading
1164 people want to read
About the author
Sarah Caudwell
10 books135 followersSarah Cockburn (1939-2000) wrote under the pen-name Sarah Caudwell. She was a mystery writer. The four books of her "Hilary Tamar" series are her only novels other than The Perfect Murder which she co-wrote with several other novelists, but she also wrote several short crime stories. She was the half-sister of Alexander Cockburn.
Series:
* Hilary Tamar Mystery
Series:
* Hilary Tamar Mystery
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 189 reviews
January 14, 2016
On the subject of the pen Julia became indignant. She had never heard of such a thing -- or at any rate she had never read of such a thing -- or at any rate not in any piece of respectable crime fiction published since the beginning of the Second World War. A physical object, forsooth, with the initials of the suspect engraved on it -- why, it was worse than a fingerprint.
...If the progress of the past half century was to count for nothing, then one might as well go back, said Julia scathingly, to murders committed by means of arsenic or for motives of matrimonial jealousy.
"I do not doubt,: I said, "that in a crime novel having any pretensions of modernity, the pen would be quite inadmissible. As a mere historian, however, there is nothing I can do about it. Nature, as we know, does imitate Art, but I fear that she often falls short of the highest standards. Were you to turn your attention from fictional crimes to those reported in the newspapers, you would find that people are still leaving fingerprints and murdering unfaithful spouses for all the world as if they were living in the 1920s. In the more backward parts of the country they may even still be poisoning one another with arsenic. We cannot ignore the pen for the sake of literary fashion."
If you don't enjoy that passage, then this mystery is not for you. You should instead go search out a novel like the one Julia and Cantrip are collaborating on, where the suave, handsome Carruthers saves the shrinking damsel from unwanted advances and clasps her to his manly chest.
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November 3, 2024Absolutely glommed these delightful books set among a pack of lawyers. In this one the locus for trouble is the Woosterish Michael Cantrip, handicapped as he is by his educational disadvantages (Cambridge rather than Oxford). Very very silly in an extremely clever way and purely enjoyable.
December 19, 2011
The plot in Hilary Tamar books is almost beside the point. The point is the voice that Caudwell captures — the hyperliterate, formal, stylized, awesome voice. I don't know if anyone has ever actually talked like this, but oh, I hope they did, I hope someone still does, and I hope I meet that person and spend as much time as possible with them.
Also: dear jacket copy, some of us do not give a fig about Hilary Tamar's gender, preferred pronoun, or status as a hero or heroine. (No, seriously, the jacket copy says that is the central mystery.)
Also: dear jacket copy, some of us do not give a fig about Hilary Tamar's gender, preferred pronoun, or status as a hero or heroine. (No, seriously, the jacket copy says that is the central mystery.)
June 15, 2011
Another stupendous installment of the madcap adventures of the gang at 62 and 63 New Square! This time, the mystery has the same background story as John Grisham’s The Firm, but it is deeeelightful, instead of being kind of dark and boring. Again, what I find wonderful about all of Caudwell’s books is that the unraveling of the stories are so light and fun, but the denouement always has a sense of insight into the depth of misunderstanding and tragedy of which humans are capable. These characters resonate with me, and I love them whether they are slipping on banana peels or prying into the heart and mind of a murderer.
I listened to this one on audio, and I must use the word “splendid” about the audio because it was so British in its greatness. I highly recommend it. This one has more Cantrip than some of the others, which I loved because I think Cantrip is a hilarious character. There is a joke at the beginning about how he learns to use the telex machine (I know, quaint! I am still not positive what a telex machine is, but it seems like sounds kind of like a cross between email and fax), and he suddenly has to send telexes to everyone he can find a number for. He’s, like, one of the original trolls. Brilliant. I love all the lawyers, though. Julia’s wonderful tax planning advice is great, and Selena’s advocacy, and Ragwort’s disapproval of it all. Why do people read stupid Grisham and Ludlum and the like? Sorry, fans, but I cannot abide those people and their boring redundancy. Caudwell kicks their asses.
I guess she does basically hit everything I love in every book: law, literature, gender, slapstick, melodrama. Really the only thing missing is the characters bursting out into a Whedon-esque song and dance. Otherwise, it’s all in there. And she doesn’t really repeat on the sex and gender stuff, either. It seems different and new in every book. I’m going to copy for you this really wonderful exchange that Caudwell uses with artistry that I think is genius in this book:
”There is nothing to worry about,” said Julia, with an excess of confidence which I found in itself alarming. “I have worked out a strategy for dealing with him. I intend to model my behaviour in all respects on that of my Aunt Regina. My Aunt Regina, so far as I can discover, doesn’t believe that men progress much morally or intellectually after the age of six, and she treats them accordingly. She always gets on splendidly with men like the Colonel – two of her husbands were of just the same type.”
“My dear Julia,” said Ragwort, “your ambition to deal with men in the same manner as your Aunt Regina is very laudable. From the point of view of realism, however, it is somewhat similar to your deciding to play tennis in the style of Miss Martina Navratilova.”
“The trouble is,” said Selena, with a certain wistfulness, “that you and I, Julia, have been brought up in an era of emancipation and enlightenment, and we have got into the habit of treating men as if they were normal, responsible, grown-up people. We engage them in discussion; we treat their opinions as worthy of quite serious consideration; we seek to influence their behavior by rational argument rather than by some simple system of rewards and punishments. It’s all a great mistake, of course, and only makes them confused and miserable – especially men like the Colonel, who have grown up with the idea that women will tell them what they ought to do without their having to think about it for themselves. But I’m afraid it’s too late to put the clock back.”
Incidentally, if you listen to the audio of these books, you realize that Julia’s Aunt Regina’s name rhymes with vagina. . . . So, that was a pleasant surprise. Last night, inspired by this book and the Oregon legal community, I spent some delightful hours with friends talking about the potential of someone named Regina Sarcombe sizing us up.
Anyway, I love the way this book both lightheartedly and tragically shows relationships between men and women. It shows how people are very silly and very passionate, in just the way I see people as silly and passionate. I read something on wikipedia about the series - that it suffers from being too detached, or something? I agree that there is a beautifully British ironical detachment in the right places, but where the stories should be compassionate and touching, they are that as well. These are wonderful books, and I’m a little sad that I gave the first two to a friend. I will have to find new copies so that I can have a complete set. Oh, but it looks like there are some very tempting hardcovers out there. I resolve that I shall wait until I get paid, but after that there are no guaranties that my hardcover collection won’t get a little fatter.
I listened to this one on audio, and I must use the word “splendid” about the audio because it was so British in its greatness. I highly recommend it. This one has more Cantrip than some of the others, which I loved because I think Cantrip is a hilarious character. There is a joke at the beginning about how he learns to use the telex machine (I know, quaint! I am still not positive what a telex machine is, but it seems like sounds kind of like a cross between email and fax), and he suddenly has to send telexes to everyone he can find a number for. He’s, like, one of the original trolls. Brilliant. I love all the lawyers, though. Julia’s wonderful tax planning advice is great, and Selena’s advocacy, and Ragwort’s disapproval of it all. Why do people read stupid Grisham and Ludlum and the like? Sorry, fans, but I cannot abide those people and their boring redundancy. Caudwell kicks their asses.
I guess she does basically hit everything I love in every book: law, literature, gender, slapstick, melodrama. Really the only thing missing is the characters bursting out into a Whedon-esque song and dance. Otherwise, it’s all in there. And she doesn’t really repeat on the sex and gender stuff, either. It seems different and new in every book. I’m going to copy for you this really wonderful exchange that Caudwell uses with artistry that I think is genius in this book:
”There is nothing to worry about,” said Julia, with an excess of confidence which I found in itself alarming. “I have worked out a strategy for dealing with him. I intend to model my behaviour in all respects on that of my Aunt Regina. My Aunt Regina, so far as I can discover, doesn’t believe that men progress much morally or intellectually after the age of six, and she treats them accordingly. She always gets on splendidly with men like the Colonel – two of her husbands were of just the same type.”
“My dear Julia,” said Ragwort, “your ambition to deal with men in the same manner as your Aunt Regina is very laudable. From the point of view of realism, however, it is somewhat similar to your deciding to play tennis in the style of Miss Martina Navratilova.”
“The trouble is,” said Selena, with a certain wistfulness, “that you and I, Julia, have been brought up in an era of emancipation and enlightenment, and we have got into the habit of treating men as if they were normal, responsible, grown-up people. We engage them in discussion; we treat their opinions as worthy of quite serious consideration; we seek to influence their behavior by rational argument rather than by some simple system of rewards and punishments. It’s all a great mistake, of course, and only makes them confused and miserable – especially men like the Colonel, who have grown up with the idea that women will tell them what they ought to do without their having to think about it for themselves. But I’m afraid it’s too late to put the clock back.”
Incidentally, if you listen to the audio of these books, you realize that Julia’s Aunt Regina’s name rhymes with vagina. . . . So, that was a pleasant surprise. Last night, inspired by this book and the Oregon legal community, I spent some delightful hours with friends talking about the potential of someone named Regina Sarcombe sizing us up.
Anyway, I love the way this book both lightheartedly and tragically shows relationships between men and women. It shows how people are very silly and very passionate, in just the way I see people as silly and passionate. I read something on wikipedia about the series - that it suffers from being too detached, or something? I agree that there is a beautifully British ironical detachment in the right places, but where the stories should be compassionate and touching, they are that as well. These are wonderful books, and I’m a little sad that I gave the first two to a friend. I will have to find new copies so that I can have a complete set. Oh, but it looks like there are some very tempting hardcovers out there. I resolve that I shall wait until I get paid, but after that there are no guaranties that my hardcover collection won’t get a little fatter.
April 10, 2022
This is the third Sarah Caudwell mystery, featuring Professor Hilary Tamar and all the young barristers from Lincoln Inn. I know that the real mystery of this series is whether Prof Hilary Tamar is male or female - personally, from the first novel I saw Hilary as female and the central character has remained that way to me. However, should you see them as male, then that is obviously your perogative.
This series is a delight and this third book revolves around the character of Michael Cantrip who ventures to Jersey, where he is asked to advise on 'the Daffodil Settlement.' You may feel that mysteries involving law firms, accountants, tax settlements and trustees might be dull, but you could not be more wrong. This is a delight. Cantrip is gleeful at being in Jersey when he should be attending Court in London - even more so as his mischievious uncle, Colonel Hereward Cantrip, will be visiting and his colleagues - Julia, Ragwort and Selena - will need to amuse him in his absence.
Cantrip is a sweet and charming character. Having discovered the delights of the Telex (remember those?) he delights in sending endless messages to Julia, which are read by virtually everyone in the office before they find their way to the correct recipient. While in Jersey, Cantrip finds that one of those involved with the Trust, the Countess Gabriella, is afraid she is being spied on and he determines to be her protector. Meanwhile, a member of the judiciary, Judge Arthur Welladay, (or, as Cantrip terms him, 'Welliboots') appears on the scene to confuse things still more. Before long, everyone is chasing everyone else and members of the Trust seem to be dying before their time. Enter Professor Tamar to help solve the case and bring peace back to the Chambers, so our characters can again retreat to their favourite wine bar and put the world to rights. Sadly, there is only more of these books for me to read but I am SO glad I found this series and thank the members of my Reading the Detectives group who brought them to my attention.
This series is a delight and this third book revolves around the character of Michael Cantrip who ventures to Jersey, where he is asked to advise on 'the Daffodil Settlement.' You may feel that mysteries involving law firms, accountants, tax settlements and trustees might be dull, but you could not be more wrong. This is a delight. Cantrip is gleeful at being in Jersey when he should be attending Court in London - even more so as his mischievious uncle, Colonel Hereward Cantrip, will be visiting and his colleagues - Julia, Ragwort and Selena - will need to amuse him in his absence.
Cantrip is a sweet and charming character. Having discovered the delights of the Telex (remember those?) he delights in sending endless messages to Julia, which are read by virtually everyone in the office before they find their way to the correct recipient. While in Jersey, Cantrip finds that one of those involved with the Trust, the Countess Gabriella, is afraid she is being spied on and he determines to be her protector. Meanwhile, a member of the judiciary, Judge Arthur Welladay, (or, as Cantrip terms him, 'Welliboots') appears on the scene to confuse things still more. Before long, everyone is chasing everyone else and members of the Trust seem to be dying before their time. Enter Professor Tamar to help solve the case and bring peace back to the Chambers, so our characters can again retreat to their favourite wine bar and put the world to rights. Sadly, there is only more of these books for me to read but I am SO glad I found this series and thank the members of my Reading the Detectives group who brought them to my attention.
October 19, 2019
I'm rereading Sarah Caudwell this summer and having such a good time! And I really had to add a star when I finished this one; it's even better than I remembered. Mostly because a good portion of it is "narrated" by Michael Cantrip -- the story's sweetly sexy doofus (think Bertie Wooster being forced to work in a London law firm) -- via fax.
Caudwell is amazing. Who else could make mysteries based on British tax law so compelling? But though the mysteries, themselves, are very good, it's really the humor that makes you want to force these books on everyone you know. As I'm doing now. Go! Go read them! You’ll be so happy you did.
P.S. You needn't really read them in order, but I do recommend saving The Sibyl in her Grave for last.
November 11, 2024
Nicht ganz so gut wie Teil 1, die Krimihandlung konventionell, aber weiterhin Scherze auf Steuerrechtsbasis und einige sehr lustige Stellen. So hätte Dorothy L. Sayers geschrieben, wenn Frauen damals schon Sex gehabt hätten.
May 14, 2022
The Sirens Sang Of Murder is just as good as its two predecessors – which is really saying something.
This time, the mystery revolves around tax-avoidance/evasion. There is a difficulty with a hugely valuable trust whose origins, whereabouts and beneficiaries are deliberately obscure. Young Cantrip (although labouring under what Oxford Professor Hilary Tamar sees as the cruel disadvantage of a mere Cambridge education) is dispatched to Jersey and thence to other tax havens to give advice and then in pursuit of what he sees as possible malfeasance – and of a woman to whom he is strongly attracted. He leaves the others to entertain his aged but robust and outrageous uncle and the usual imbroglio develops, which Hilary disentangles in the end.
It’s a hoot. Don’t expect a lot of fast action, although there are quite violent and mysterious events; the charm and wit of these books is all in the language. The opening chapters where lawyers often discuss tax-dodges in humorously evasive terms may not be to everyone’s taste, but I loved it all. I laughed out loud regularly, especially at Hilary’s narrative voice and Cantrip's lengthy telexes. To be honest, I got slightly lost in the complexities of who stood to benefit from whose death, but I didn’t care. It is so entertaining that I just went with the flow and absolutely loved it. I can recommend this and the others in the series very warmly indeed.
This time, the mystery revolves around tax-avoidance/evasion. There is a difficulty with a hugely valuable trust whose origins, whereabouts and beneficiaries are deliberately obscure. Young Cantrip (although labouring under what Oxford Professor Hilary Tamar sees as the cruel disadvantage of a mere Cambridge education) is dispatched to Jersey and thence to other tax havens to give advice and then in pursuit of what he sees as possible malfeasance – and of a woman to whom he is strongly attracted. He leaves the others to entertain his aged but robust and outrageous uncle and the usual imbroglio develops, which Hilary disentangles in the end.
It’s a hoot. Don’t expect a lot of fast action, although there are quite violent and mysterious events; the charm and wit of these books is all in the language. The opening chapters where lawyers often discuss tax-dodges in humorously evasive terms may not be to everyone’s taste, but I loved it all. I laughed out loud regularly, especially at Hilary’s narrative voice and Cantrip's lengthy telexes. To be honest, I got slightly lost in the complexities of who stood to benefit from whose death, but I didn’t care. It is so entertaining that I just went with the flow and absolutely loved it. I can recommend this and the others in the series very warmly indeed.
April 30, 2023
The most superbly entertaining entry in this series. The Sirens Sang of Murder features more cool European locations (the Channel Islands, Monte Carlo) and more delightful language. Caudwell's narrator, Hilary Tamar, has a voice that's nothing like real life, but infinitely more funny and charming. Here's one example:
"The accompanying photograph, it is fair to say, showed Julia to some advantage, through emphasizing, to an extent Ragwort would have frowned on, the decolletage previously mentioned. It showed Roland Devereux, on the other hand, at one of those moments when even the most photogenic of actors can hardly appear at his best, that is to say when a military gentleman of advanced years is emptying a plate of spaghetti over him."
"The accompanying photograph, it is fair to say, showed Julia to some advantage, through emphasizing, to an extent Ragwort would have frowned on, the decolletage previously mentioned. It showed Roland Devereux, on the other hand, at one of those moments when even the most photogenic of actors can hardly appear at his best, that is to say when a military gentleman of advanced years is emptying a plate of spaghetti over him."
November 29, 2019
The motive in this one was frankly ridiculous, but no one reads Sarah Caudwell for a logical puzzle. The narration is as brilliant as ever; Julia and Selena had had their day as frontline reporters, now it's time for Woosterlike Cantrip to shine - and he does. Sweet.
December 12, 2020
I say, Larwood, is this tax-planning business really as exciting as these Daffodil characters seem to think or do they just make believe it is to make life more interesting? I mean, if I'd known it was all about does and secret documents and biffing chaps in false beards, I wouldn't have minded going in for it myself.... (Michael Cantrip--by telex, p. 47)
This is the third in a quartet of fun, witty, twisty mysteries that Caudwell wrote about Hilary Tamar, law scholar and sometime amateur sleuth, and a group of junior barristers who have an uncanny knack for landing themselves in the middle of murder and mayhem. Our most recent adventure opens with Michael Cantrip and Larwood knee-deep in concocting a novel loosely-based (ahem) on themselves and the doings in their law office. Cantrip is immediately taken off to the Channel Islands ostensibly to advise on a tax case [though, if the Daffodil Settlement folk wanted really good tax advice, why didn't they ask Larwood, a more notable authority on the subject?].
The Channel Islands served (maybe still serve?) as tax havens for folks such as those who set up the Daffodil Settlement. A settlement (or other such conveyances) properly set up could protect people living in heavily taxed countries from being bothered by such pesky details like income tax or death duties or such. Part of the idea was to hide the identities of the real owners and beneficiaries so the Inland Revenue spies...er officials couldn't figure them out. But, generally speaking, the administrators of such things were supposed to know. Key word supposed.
Apparently, now that the chief administrator of the Daffodil Settlement has died in a swimming accident, nobody knows identity of any of the important players. And a situation has arisen that makes it imperative to know--otherwise about 9 million pounds is going to be paid out to the named beneficiary (which was supposed be just pretend). Cantrip has been brought in to advise the remaining administrators on "what the heck do we do now?" But then another member of the little group falls off a cliff...and it begins to look like somebody is trying to make sure the trust is paid out in a certain way.
Cantrip gets a bit worried about the whole situation and begins sending telex messages to his colleagues back in London keeping them abreast of the situation. Things get very tense and Professor Tamar goes buzzing off to the island of Sark to prevent Cantrip from being the next contestant in the death stakes. Will our intrepid amateur detective be in time? Does Tamar know who is behind it all and why?
****Possible spoiler ahead. Read at your own risk***
I absolutely love Cantrip this time around (and am ready to forgive him for having a name that makes me want to call him Catnip). The telex updates that he sends to his fellow lawyers are hilarious and following his adventures as he tries to foil whatever nefarious plans "old Wellieboots" has up his sleeve is worth the price of admission. I am tempted to give this a full five stars based on that alone--but I have to deduct a star for the solution. I mean, yes, there's all that tax and settlement and who's the real beneficiary business floating around to create a nice bit of suspicion all round. But, honestly, when the real villain of the piece crawls out of the woodwork, it feels a bit cliche. I have to agree with Larwood that the old-fashioned motive rearing its head amongst the overall flow of the plot seemed just a bit out of place. I can't really cry foul though--Caudwell does strew the clues about and it should have been possible for me to identify the culprit. But I definitely wasn't thinking about that motive, so the clues didn't point where they should have.
This is the third in a quartet of fun, witty, twisty mysteries that Caudwell wrote about Hilary Tamar, law scholar and sometime amateur sleuth, and a group of junior barristers who have an uncanny knack for landing themselves in the middle of murder and mayhem. Our most recent adventure opens with Michael Cantrip and Larwood knee-deep in concocting a novel loosely-based (ahem) on themselves and the doings in their law office. Cantrip is immediately taken off to the Channel Islands ostensibly to advise on a tax case [though, if the Daffodil Settlement folk wanted really good tax advice, why didn't they ask Larwood, a more notable authority on the subject?].
The Channel Islands served (maybe still serve?) as tax havens for folks such as those who set up the Daffodil Settlement. A settlement (or other such conveyances) properly set up could protect people living in heavily taxed countries from being bothered by such pesky details like income tax or death duties or such. Part of the idea was to hide the identities of the real owners and beneficiaries so the Inland Revenue spies...er officials couldn't figure them out. But, generally speaking, the administrators of such things were supposed to know. Key word supposed.
Apparently, now that the chief administrator of the Daffodil Settlement has died in a swimming accident, nobody knows identity of any of the important players. And a situation has arisen that makes it imperative to know--otherwise about 9 million pounds is going to be paid out to the named beneficiary (which was supposed be just pretend). Cantrip has been brought in to advise the remaining administrators on "what the heck do we do now?" But then another member of the little group falls off a cliff...and it begins to look like somebody is trying to make sure the trust is paid out in a certain way.
Cantrip gets a bit worried about the whole situation and begins sending telex messages to his colleagues back in London keeping them abreast of the situation. Things get very tense and Professor Tamar goes buzzing off to the island of Sark to prevent Cantrip from being the next contestant in the death stakes. Will our intrepid amateur detective be in time? Does Tamar know who is behind it all and why?
****Possible spoiler ahead. Read at your own risk***
I absolutely love Cantrip this time around (and am ready to forgive him for having a name that makes me want to call him Catnip). The telex updates that he sends to his fellow lawyers are hilarious and following his adventures as he tries to foil whatever nefarious plans "old Wellieboots" has up his sleeve is worth the price of admission. I am tempted to give this a full five stars based on that alone--but I have to deduct a star for the solution. I mean, yes, there's all that tax and settlement and who's the real beneficiary business floating around to create a nice bit of suspicion all round. But, honestly, when the real villain of the piece crawls out of the woodwork, it feels a bit cliche. I have to agree with Larwood that the old-fashioned motive rearing its head amongst the overall flow of the plot seemed just a bit out of place. I can't really cry foul though--Caudwell does strew the clues about and it should have been possible for me to identify the culprit. But I definitely wasn't thinking about that motive, so the clues didn't point where they should have.
December 26, 2018
Dar vienas puikus Sarah Caudwell detektyvas, kurį ilgai taupiausi.
Į nuotykius įsivelia ta pati kompanija, kurią jau išties pamilau (dar sykį - kaip gaila, kad esama tik keturių knygų!!!): keturi Londono teisininkai ir pasakotoja(s), kuri(s) jiems padeda - professor Hilary Tamar. Šįsyk į keistą situaciją patenka Cantrip, kuriam, kaip pasakotoja(s) nuolatos pamini, nepasisekė gauti vien Kembridžo išsilavinimą (oh, the snobbery! Bet labai juokinga ir miela).
Kaip ir kituose Sarah Caudwell romanuose, čia daug "atjungimo", t.y. didžioji istorijos dalis pasakojama per laiškus, ar, tiksliau, "telex machine", kas tai bebūtų. Dar įdedama ištraukų iš juokingai sentimentalaus romano apie teisininkus, kurį rašo Julia ir Cantrip, be to, pasakotoja(s) nuolatos reflektuoja šią (pasakotojo) instanciją. Man tas patinka ir visai malonu kartais skaityti kriminalinį romaną, kuris nebando tavęs už pakarpos įtempti į veiksmo sūkurį.
Pradžioje labai bandžiau sekti tuos teisinius reikalus, nuo kurių ir prasidėjo painiava, ir buvo gana sunku, bet manau, kad gerai skaitytųsi ir jei tiesiog perbėgtum juos akimis.
Į nuotykius įsivelia ta pati kompanija, kurią jau išties pamilau (dar sykį - kaip gaila, kad esama tik keturių knygų!!!): keturi Londono teisininkai ir pasakotoja(s), kuri(s) jiems padeda - professor Hilary Tamar. Šįsyk į keistą situaciją patenka Cantrip, kuriam, kaip pasakotoja(s) nuolatos pamini, nepasisekė gauti vien Kembridžo išsilavinimą (oh, the snobbery! Bet labai juokinga ir miela).
Kaip ir kituose Sarah Caudwell romanuose, čia daug "atjungimo", t.y. didžioji istorijos dalis pasakojama per laiškus, ar, tiksliau, "telex machine", kas tai bebūtų. Dar įdedama ištraukų iš juokingai sentimentalaus romano apie teisininkus, kurį rašo Julia ir Cantrip, be to, pasakotoja(s) nuolatos reflektuoja šią (pasakotojo) instanciją. Man tas patinka ir visai malonu kartais skaityti kriminalinį romaną, kuris nebando tavęs už pakarpos įtempti į veiksmo sūkurį.
Pradžioje labai bandžiau sekti tuos teisinius reikalus, nuo kurių ir prasidėjo painiava, ir buvo gana sunku, bet manau, kad gerai skaitytųsi ir jei tiesiog perbėgtum juos akimis.
May 8, 2017
Another excellent instalment of the Hilary Tamar franchise, this one heavily featuring Michael Cantrip. Cantrip has his own delightful idiom (possibly as a result of his sadly second-rate Cambridge education), e.g.:
- "if you find someone casting aspidistras at an old mate, you've jolly well got to spring to the defence"
- "everything was pretty bonhomous until someone said something about the Cayman Islands"
- "Another thing that cramped my style for remonstering was that she kept shushing me"
Casting aspidistras! Remonstering!
On a more serious note, I don't imagine that it can have been easy, being a female barrister in the 70s and 80s, and there is certainly a place for narratives dealing frankly with that struggle; but equally it is delightful, in a freeing kind of way, to read about this fictional version of the recent past, where women are effortlessly, proportionately represented in the higher ranks of the court, casual misandry rules the day, and it is impossible to determine Hilary's gender from the way people treat her/him. I leave you with some wisdom from Selena, who continues to be queen of my heart:
- "if you find someone casting aspidistras at an old mate, you've jolly well got to spring to the defence"
- "everything was pretty bonhomous until someone said something about the Cayman Islands"
- "Another thing that cramped my style for remonstering was that she kept shushing me"
Casting aspidistras! Remonstering!
On a more serious note, I don't imagine that it can have been easy, being a female barrister in the 70s and 80s, and there is certainly a place for narratives dealing frankly with that struggle; but equally it is delightful, in a freeing kind of way, to read about this fictional version of the recent past, where women are effortlessly, proportionately represented in the higher ranks of the court, casual misandry rules the day, and it is impossible to determine Hilary's gender from the way people treat her/him. I leave you with some wisdom from Selena, who continues to be queen of my heart:
‘The trouble is,’ said Selena, with a certain wistfulness, ‘that you and I, Julia, have been brought up in an era of emancipation and enlightenment, and we have got into the habit of treating men as if they were normal, responsible, grown-up people. We engage them in discussion; we treat their opinions as worthy of quite serious consideration; we seek to influence their behaviour by rational argument rather than by some simple system of rewards and punishments. It’s all a great mistake, of course, and only makes them confused and miserable – especially men like the Colonel, who have grown up with the idea that women will tell them what they ought to do without their having to think about it for themselves. But I’m afraid it’s too late to put the clock back.’
December 26, 2024
You wouldn't think that taxes and accounting would be funny or interesting, but Sarah Caudwell manages to make them both.
I have to say, however, that I agree with Mr. Justice Arthur Welladay when he states:
In my view a man who enjoys the privileges of living in a country, and yet is not willing to make his just contribution to that country's exchequer, is no more an upright or honourable man than one who spends a week at a first-class hotel and leaves without paying his bill.
2019 reread: Still fantastic. The Kindle version had some typos that should be fixed, but nothing that impeded enjoyment of the story
2024 audiobook - The Count's Italian accent was somewhat of a caricature - you could almost see the narrator doing the stereotypical hand gestures - but it was otherwise a good performance.
I have to say, however, that I agree with Mr. Justice Arthur Welladay when he states:
In my view a man who enjoys the privileges of living in a country, and yet is not willing to make his just contribution to that country's exchequer, is no more an upright or honourable man than one who spends a week at a first-class hotel and leaves without paying his bill.
2019 reread: Still fantastic. The Kindle version had some typos that should be fixed, but nothing that impeded enjoyment of the story
2024 audiobook - The Count's Italian accent was somewhat of a caricature - you could almost see the narrator doing the stereotypical hand gestures - but it was otherwise a good performance.
July 24, 2021
have you read sarah caudwell? i’d never heard of her, but a friend mentioned her the other day so i got one from the library. rather delightful. quirky as all get out - the language style is terrific and unusual. of course, i’ve been suffering from bronchitis/fever/strep this week, so i fear that i did not do it justice - and so i plan to start it ALL OVER AGAIN IMMEDIATELY.
incidentally, the legal/tax machinations in this book are eerily prescient of the Panama Papers revelations: http://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/06/us/...
incidentally, the legal/tax machinations in this book are eerily prescient of the Panama Papers revelations: http://www.nytimes.com/2016/06/06/us/...
June 21, 2017
A truly unique writer and one to be savored. Ms. Caudwell has a mischievous sense of humor and a marvelous way with prose.
For those who enjoy old fashioned English writing with the philosophy "why use 5 words when 50 long-winded ones are so much better." this book will be hugely enjoyable. For those who prefer American style direct and concise writing, stick with Hemingway.
For those who enjoy old fashioned English writing with the philosophy "why use 5 words when 50 long-winded ones are so much better." this book will be hugely enjoyable. For those who prefer American style direct and concise writing, stick with Hemingway.
October 31, 2024
Caudwell's writing style continues to deliver, to the crazy extent I found myself not caring much about the actual mystery at the heart of it.
I did struggle around one of the plot points that helped solve the murder. Major .
I did struggle around one of the plot points that helped solve the murder. Major .
February 4, 2012
“Yes,” said Julia. “So the impasse—which I take to be the correct expression for a situation in which no one makes a pass at anyone—continued throughout my stay . . . except that on the way back to our hotel I tripped over something, and Patrick took my arm to prevent me falling over. This had a very peculiar effect on me, even worse than the breathlessness and indigestion which I have previously mentioned—I felt as if suppose an ice cream might feel when hot chocolate sauce is poured over it.” p. 68
The trouble with real life is that you don’t know whether you’re the hero or just some nice chap who gets bumped off in chapter five to show what a rotter the villain is without anyone minding too much. p. 171
Unfortunately, Good Reads doesn't have Cauldwell's fourth book, The Sybil in Her Grave, so I'll have to state with sob-laden gasps that this is the last book Cauldwell wrote and the erudite, ironic, and oh-so-full-of-him/herself Hilary will solve no more murders.
The trouble with real life is that you don’t know whether you’re the hero or just some nice chap who gets bumped off in chapter five to show what a rotter the villain is without anyone minding too much. p. 171
Unfortunately, Good Reads doesn't have Cauldwell's fourth book, The Sybil in Her Grave, so I'll have to state with sob-laden gasps that this is the last book Cauldwell wrote and the erudite, ironic, and oh-so-full-of-him/herself Hilary will solve no more murders.
February 27, 2013
A bit slow to start, unless you are fascinated by the intricacies of British inheritance law, but eventually an enjoyable mystery. The humor is very dry and British (lots of subtle digs at Cambridge by the Oxford-educated narrator). I'm a little surprised these haven't been done on TV by Masterpiece.
November 27, 2024
Picked this book up on recommendation by author KJ Charles. Gossip-loving law professor Hilary Tamar reports on the misadventures of baby lawyer Michael Cantrip as he embarks on the case of some very hinky tax hijinks in the Channel Islands—and also a murder most mysterious.
This a book written in a very old-fashioned style, and I had to repeatedly check that it was, in fact, actually published in 1989. The prose reads like Bertie Wooster by way of Dorothy Sayer's mysteries. Here's an excerpt, to give you a feel for it:
Personally I find this style to be a delight and often screamingly funny, but your taste might vary. I will say it was slightly disconcerting to read about people mentioning Disney and so on. The mystery itself is not quite up to the standards of, say, Dorothy Sayers, as I found the motive to be pretty unconvincing. But as the main draw of the book is watching Tamar narrate the absurd lawyer shenanigans, this is not much of an issue for anyone except the strict murder mystery purists.
If you enjoy Wodehouse, The Sirens Sang of Murder is a must-read. What a delight of a souffle.
This a book written in a very old-fashioned style, and I had to repeatedly check that it was, in fact, actually published in 1989. The prose reads like Bertie Wooster by way of Dorothy Sayer's mysteries. Here's an excerpt, to give you a feel for it:
He had watched its installation with keen interest and had succeeded in obtaining from the engineer in charge some elementary guidance as to its use. Permitted to run his fingers over its chaste ivory keyboard and to discover with what exquisite sensitivity it responded to his lightest touch – deleting here, inserting there, amending elsewhere – the poor boy fell victim to as fatal a fascination as that exerted by Isolde over Tristan or Lesbia over Catullus. He had spent the next three days in a delirium of telexsending.
Personally I find this style to be a delight and often screamingly funny, but your taste might vary. I will say it was slightly disconcerting to read about people mentioning Disney and so on. The mystery itself is not quite up to the standards of, say, Dorothy Sayers, as I found the motive to be pretty unconvincing. But as the main draw of the book is watching Tamar narrate the absurd lawyer shenanigans, this is not much of an issue for anyone except the strict murder mystery purists.
If you enjoy Wodehouse, The Sirens Sang of Murder is a must-read. What a delight of a souffle.
September 25, 2018
I’m generally not one for murder mysteries, however this series is distinctively hilarious in a rather Wodehousian manner. This installment is set in the world of offshore tax havens; it says something about the immense charm of the narration that I did not constantly grind my teeth about rich people evading tax. In part, I think, because of the slyly mocking tone. As with Thus Was Adonis Murdered, I didn’t care at all whodunnit - like I said, murder mysteries are not at all my thing. I very much enjoyed the shenanigans and constant gossiping of the legal professionals involved, however. Large portions of the plot are told in an epistolary manner, in the adorably retro format of telex messages, which is delightful. There are secret assignations, car chases, attempts at writing a romance novel, and seminars on tax avoidance. A favourite passage, discussing an inconvenient uncle:
Selena is undoubtedly my favourite character - she carefully stays out of the murder-related drama, while ensuring that events always serve her interests. What a role model. Overall, a slight but entertaining diversion that balances pomposity and irony very adroitly.
”What about afterwards?” said Ragwort. “Where are you taking the appalling old menace for dinner?”
“Guido’s. I suppose it’s not quite what he means by a night spot, but I wanted to take him somewhere where he couldn’t get into any trouble. And I don’t think, Ragwort, that you ought to refer to him as an appalling old menace. He fought with great distinction in the Second World war.”
“Fought in it? He probably started it - it would be his idea of a joke.”
“He’s got the DSO,” said Julia.
“He’s a dangerous lunatic,” said Ragwort.
“I am not sure,” said Selena, “that being a dangerous lunatic is inconsistent with having a DSO. One almost suspects that it may be a prerequisite.”
Selena is undoubtedly my favourite character - she carefully stays out of the murder-related drama, while ensuring that events always serve her interests. What a role model. Overall, a slight but entertaining diversion that balances pomposity and irony very adroitly.
May 10, 2022
I love this series for its combination of quirky characters, interesting plots and British comedy. In this instalment, Julia is surprised when Cantrip is approached to advise a group involved in a tax avoidance scheme. It turns out that the benefactor of a trust has died, but nobody can remember who the beneficiary was supposed to be. It then turns out that there has already been a suspicious death in the group and then a second member dies in unexplained circumstances. The action moves from London across the Channel Islands through France to Monaco and Hilary Tamar is trying to keep everyone alive while identifying the beneficiary. Great fun!
November 29, 2020
Hm, I liked this less than the first two. I'm less fond of Cantrip than the others, for which I blame Hilary (I'll never think well of Cambridge again, lol). It also felt a bit harder to follow. I'm not sure if there were more minor characters than usual or if it just felt that way.
Owned physical book 2/2 for the month
Overall owned book 4/5 for the month
Owned physical book 2/2 for the month
Overall owned book 4/5 for the month
January 6, 2018
The third of Sarah Caudwell's Hilary Tamar mysteries sees Hilary drawn into investigating mysterious goings-on around a Jersey trust fund. As with the earlier books, it's almost an epistolary novel for about the first two-thirds, as Hilary and their friends from the 62 New Square chambers read and discuss correspondence from Cantrip, who is on the scene as advisor to the trust's meeting and is taking advantage of his hotel's telex facilities to send long, chatty accounts of the proceedings. Cantrip's narrative is delightfully Bertie Wooster-ish, while Hilary's parts of the novel continue to be a perfect rendition of the slightly pompous Oxford don (why yes, I do know whereof I speak...). As always, the action is split between Lincoln's Inn and the nearby wine bar the Corkscrew and several rather more exotic locations, in this case the Channel Islands, the Cayman Islands, France and Monte Carlo, and I do find that the sunny settings, along with the wit and general frothiness, make these particularly good books to read in a dull English winter. (I recollect that I liked The Shortest Way to Hades less than the other two, but on reflection that may be because I read it in September while I was on holiday, and I suspect that the sunniness of the books makes them work best when read when it's dark out and the prospect of the next holiday is a distant one.)
July 30, 2023
One of our intrepid barristers has traveled from the Channel Islands to Monte Carlo, with murder in the offing, and Professor Tamar must hurry to the rescue.
Book Review: This time it's the energetic if callow Cantrip sending missives back to 63 New Square in this third installment of Sarah Caudwell's Professor Hilary Tamar series, The Sirens Sang of Murder. Here we have Jersey, Guernsey (of Potato Peel Society fame), and Sark, tax-law, missing heirs, London, the new-fangled telex, Monte Carlo, locked wine cellars, helicopters, and, of course, murder. Each book in the Professor Tamar series seems just a wee bit better than one before, and the only true tragedy is that there is only one more book (The Sibyl in Her Grave) left in the series. Actually, one is not required to read the books of the Hilary Tamar series in order, each stands alone, but I've found it more enjoyable to do so, as I think Caudwell, of course, expected. And let me save everyone some time: it's inconceivable that anyone who enjoyed one of the books would find any of the others anything less than equally entertaining. All, including The Sirens Sang of Murder, are of equally high quality. All are very English, full of lawyers, full of humor (more dry than wet), arch, wry, consistently clever, with a dash of sex. We learn to know and love Sarah Caudwell's cast: the curvy and amorous Julia, the perfectly professional Selena, Ragwort of the chiseled profile, the youthfully enthusiastic Cantrip, and of course the immaculate and always indeterminate Professor Hilary Tamar, who solves crimes through scholarly qualities. If you like your mystery leavened with a little (or a lot of) dry humor, you may well enjoy the books, Thus Was Adonis Murdered, The Shortest Way to Hades, and now The Sirens Sang of Murder, as much as I do. [5★]
Book Review: This time it's the energetic if callow Cantrip sending missives back to 63 New Square in this third installment of Sarah Caudwell's Professor Hilary Tamar series, The Sirens Sang of Murder. Here we have Jersey, Guernsey (of Potato Peel Society fame), and Sark, tax-law, missing heirs, London, the new-fangled telex, Monte Carlo, locked wine cellars, helicopters, and, of course, murder. Each book in the Professor Tamar series seems just a wee bit better than one before, and the only true tragedy is that there is only one more book (The Sibyl in Her Grave) left in the series. Actually, one is not required to read the books of the Hilary Tamar series in order, each stands alone, but I've found it more enjoyable to do so, as I think Caudwell, of course, expected. And let me save everyone some time: it's inconceivable that anyone who enjoyed one of the books would find any of the others anything less than equally entertaining. All, including The Sirens Sang of Murder, are of equally high quality. All are very English, full of lawyers, full of humor (more dry than wet), arch, wry, consistently clever, with a dash of sex. We learn to know and love Sarah Caudwell's cast: the curvy and amorous Julia, the perfectly professional Selena, Ragwort of the chiseled profile, the youthfully enthusiastic Cantrip, and of course the immaculate and always indeterminate Professor Hilary Tamar, who solves crimes through scholarly qualities. If you like your mystery leavened with a little (or a lot of) dry humor, you may well enjoy the books, Thus Was Adonis Murdered, The Shortest Way to Hades, and now The Sirens Sang of Murder, as much as I do. [5★]
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July 18, 2018While not my favorite of the series, this book does just what you'd want out of a "Cantrip gets into trouble; surprisingly, not all of it is his fault!" premise. Yes, there are plenty international tax law details, too, and I quite enjoyed the finesse with which Caudwell lays out her mysteries and constructs clues and shadows, but the character stuff was all sorts of perfect. Julia and Cantrip are writing a novel starring not-even-thinly-veiled Mary Sues of themselves! Selena and Ragwort offer politely dueling interpretations of one of Julia's previous love affairs! (Julia herself, being perfectly and wonderfully Julia, can see both sides, or more, to it.) The characters are smart and funny and witty, and there's still a lot of heart.
And, of course, there are Caudwell's elaborately written but quite lucid insights into human nature, as relayed by the wry and inimitable Hilary Tamar. Like this: "One becomes accustomed in academic life to the unreasonableness of the young. They desire not merely to be understood, but to be understood by telepathy; not merely to be permitted to tell their troubles, but to be prevailed on to do so. The more care they take to conceal their feelings, the greater their disillusionment if one fails to discover them." I like this sort of stuff in my crime novels: reflections on all sides of human nature, not just the evil impulses, but ordinary everyday stuff, the kind of observations that make me trust a narrator's analysis AND their emotional intelligence. And Professor Tamar, for all of her/his (I always picture Hilary as a woman, and for some reason looking and sounding like Sandi Toksvig, IDEK) flaws, is a believable, and quite funny, detective.
And, of course, there are Caudwell's elaborately written but quite lucid insights into human nature, as relayed by the wry and inimitable Hilary Tamar. Like this: "One becomes accustomed in academic life to the unreasonableness of the young. They desire not merely to be understood, but to be understood by telepathy; not merely to be permitted to tell their troubles, but to be prevailed on to do so. The more care they take to conceal their feelings, the greater their disillusionment if one fails to discover them." I like this sort of stuff in my crime novels: reflections on all sides of human nature, not just the evil impulses, but ordinary everyday stuff, the kind of observations that make me trust a narrator's analysis AND their emotional intelligence. And Professor Tamar, for all of her/his (I always picture Hilary as a woman, and for some reason looking and sounding like Sandi Toksvig, IDEK) flaws, is a believable, and quite funny, detective.
August 19, 2014
Nothing is certain except death and taxes, and this book has them both. The junior barristers of Lincoln’s Inn become involved with a group of tax planners who are trying to locate the heirs to a trust fund. There’s a complicated scheme concerned with tax avoidance, and much of the action takes place in the famous tax havens of the Channel Islands, the Cayman Islands and Monaco.
This was an amusing read, but I think it’s the weakest of the three books so far. The plot involves numerous coincidences, and I never did quite understand the intricacies of the trust arrangement.
As usual, Julia’s character is the most fun. It begins with her indignant reaction to the judge who disapproved of her client, who as “an innocent property developer, had entered into a perfectly straightforward transaction which happened to involve a bank in Amsterdam and one or two companies in the Netherlands Antilles and which therefore happened to result in his having no tax to pay.” The judge, on the other hand, seemed to consider it “the duty of every citizen to arrange his affairs in such a way as to maximise his liabilities to the Inland Revenue, and of his professional advisors to assist him in achieving that result.”
Like the first two books this one is partially epistolary, with letters arriving from Cantrip via the office’s brand new Telex machine, a device which is providing Cantrip a great deal of amusement.
This was an amusing read, but I think it’s the weakest of the three books so far. The plot involves numerous coincidences, and I never did quite understand the intricacies of the trust arrangement.
As usual, Julia’s character is the most fun. It begins with her indignant reaction to the judge who disapproved of her client, who as “an innocent property developer, had entered into a perfectly straightforward transaction which happened to involve a bank in Amsterdam and one or two companies in the Netherlands Antilles and which therefore happened to result in his having no tax to pay.” The judge, on the other hand, seemed to consider it “the duty of every citizen to arrange his affairs in such a way as to maximise his liabilities to the Inland Revenue, and of his professional advisors to assist him in achieving that result.”
Like the first two books this one is partially epistolary, with letters arriving from Cantrip via the office’s brand new Telex machine, a device which is providing Cantrip a great deal of amusement.
February 2, 2017
Bankers and financial advisors--and lawyers, of course--exist to help people limit their tax liabilities. Even those not concerned with the tax laws of England and France, however, will be fascinated as Michael Cantrip is sent to the Channel Islands to advice a group that administers a mysterious trust. In fact, the trust is so mysterious that the administrators have lost the name of the beneficiaries. As Cantrip's friends Selena, Ragwort, Julia and his eccentric uncle Hereward eagerly await his telexes (alas that Caudwell didn't live until the age of social media!) professor Hilary Tamar begins to realize that Cantrip is in danger--but from whom?
November 13, 2017
SC is laugh-out-loud funny and then for two or three pages, usually toward the end of the book, she'll break your heart. And then go back to being sly and clever. Which is so often what the best detective fiction does -- disguised as fluffy escapism, it suddenly says something real about human experience and emotion.
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