I've been away this weekend.
One of the pleasures of being a book lover is how much I get to travel, fitting global (and temporal) odysseys into just one weekend of 'real' time.
After spending much of last week flitting around Melbourne in 1929, in the scintillating company of Ms Phyrne Fisher, I found myself unable to pull out of the inter-war years.
So, I elected to spend some of it in Berlin, circa 1930, where, in the company of Mr Isherwood, I was lucky enough to meet the delectably decadent Ms Sally Bowles.
Sally likes to party, in spite of, (or, it could be argued, with total disregard for) the state of the world around her. She is a wonderful creature, as all her boyfriends know. Her life could be likened to a cabaret, all flash, glamour and entertainment on the surface, with the dirty reality hidden from the outside world by props and scenery.
I'm still enjoying Sally's life, but my magical travel powers have allowed me to skip forward to 1932, where I've spent some time aboard the majestic vessel RMS Aquitania as she makes her way across the Atlantic to New York, then on to Sydney. In the company of the the Honourable Rowland Sinclair, (accompanied, of course by his good friends, Milton, Clyde and the irresistibly flame-haired Edna) I have been introduced to the guiding lights of the Theosophical Society. Of course, someone is inconsiderate enough to have gotten murdered, and even young Roly himself has been shot at!
It's always so dangerous hanging around this gang of artistic Sydney-siders!
I look forward to continuing both of these journeys over the next few days!
As a 'dyed in the wool' lover of classic Golden Age mysteries, and being possessed of a need to be retrospectively reincarnated into the turbulent times of the roaring twenties and the tumultuous thirties, what better vehicle for my escapism than the Phryne Fisher novels of Kerry Greenwood?
With a generous ladelling of period appropriate mis-en-scene, an intelligent, beautiful, talented, protagonist, and the requisite twists, red-herrings and villains of a Christie-esque creation, Cocaine Blues, ticks all the right boxes.
Many of you will have met Miss Fisher through the excellent TV series that has catalogued her adventures, but, in time-honoured fashion, the books, of course, far out-do the TV show based on this, the first offering. There are already a whole bunch of Phryne Fisher novels out there, great news for those of us who love a single author binge. I can't wait to get my teeth into the rest of them!
The visual assistance of the TV show definitely aided my easy fall into love with this book, who couldn't fall for Essie Davies? But the novel stands alone admirably.
Greenwood has a talent for detailing the costumes her heroine inhabits throughout the adventure that might cause the non-sartorialy inclined to gloss over them a bit, but if flapper style is not your bag, if your interests lay along a more traditionally 'masculine' plane, just Google her choice of automobile, in this instance a 1920's Hispano-Suiza 46CV in red.... If you don't find that sexy, accompanied by the delectable Miss Fisher, you are clearly dead.
Read Cocaine Blues, it's wonderful!!
