Category Archives: History

Water Everywhere

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When I opened Janet Rudolph’s fascinating Spring 2025 collection of essays for Mystery Readers Journal—this edition her second on the theme of “London Mysteries,” I was delighted to discover the first one, by Aubrey Nye Hamilton, was “The Lost Rivers of London.” This was a happy coincidence, because my mystery book club this week was set to discuss Rivers of London: Midnight Riot, a 2011 book by Ben Aaronovitch that I listened to a few years ago.

This was one of those books I would never have chosen if I’d realized what it was about, but which I enjoyed immensely—despite myself, you might say. There has been a new book in the series every year since (plus a second in 2011), bringing the series total to 14 so far. I’ve not read another of these urban fantasies, but I did enjoy the first. In it, an apprentice wizard (and London police constable) must figure out why ordinary people are becoming vicious killers, as well as try to broker a peace between two warring gods of the River Thames and their respective families. I recall that the several River gods and their watery relatives were quite entertaining.

Hamilton’s essay describes the 600 km network of rivers that flows mostly invisibly, but sometimes audibly, beneath the city. They are the numerous tributaries of the Thames, and the River Fleet (yellow on the map), for which Fleet Street is named, is the largest. As author Melinda Mullet notes in her MRJ essay, the Charlbert Street Bridge (pictured above) is actually an aqueduct whose enclosed iron pipes carry water from the “lost” Tyburn River (purple on the map) to the lake in Regent’s Park.

Paved over and channeled into drainage pipes, the city’s “lost rivers” now aid its sewage and flood protection systems. Nevertheless, Hamilton notes, “sections of the sewer are often relatively dry and quite safe, if unpleasant, to travel.” This has made it possible for people, for whatever reason, to walk the city easily and invisibly, underground. As this and other essays in the volume attest, crime fiction writers have taken full advantage of this urban feature. In recent years, considerable effort has been directed to restoring and revitalizing these watercourses.

The map shows the lost rivers in color. The white squiggle is the River Thames. Perhaps they do all have distinctive personalities like author Aaronovitch speculates. The currents below the surface.

Queen of Diamonds

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This is the third in Beezy Marsh’s trilogy inspired by a real-life female shoplifting gang that operated in London in the first half of the twentieth century. The first two books, Queen of Thieves and Queen of Clubs, deal with the gang’s activities during their heyday in the 1940s and 1950s, while this book describes how their leader—Alice Diamond—got her dubious start two decades earlier.

Alice, the future Queen of Diamonds, is an orphan working long hot hours in Pink’s Jam Factory. Aspiring to a better life, she shoplifts little indulgences for herself on her off-hours—silk stockings, colorful scarves, and the like. Alice’s story is interspersed with that of Mary Carr, another legendary leader of a real-life shoplifting gang whose career began several decades earlier. Mary grew up in one of London’s most notorious slums, Seven Dials.

In Marsh’s story, Mary is noticed by a Mayfair lady out slumming. She’s looking for subjects for her paintings of dirty, downtrodden, poverty-stricken children and finds Mary a perfect model for her art. By inviting the girl to her home and studio, the condescending Lady Harcourt exposes Mary to a completely different side of life, whetting her appetite for better things. Mary soon realizes she’s treated completely differently when she’s wearing Lady Harcourt’s daughter’s hand-me-downs than when dressed in her own dirty rags. From that point, there’s no going back for her.

Author Marsh evokes sympathy with her descriptions of the women’s sordid living conditions and unambitious, resentful family members. It isn’t surprising they aspire to glamour beyond the understanding of the people they grew up with. What’s remarkable is that both Mary and Alice are brash and determined enough to get it, with potential trouble with the authorities always right around the corner.

All that is fairly sociological. What about the story? It never flags and rests on the tremendous strength of the characters Marsh has created. She puts us right there, fingering those silks, decorating those bonnets, and running for our lives when the coppers appear.

An Irish Classic: the International

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hotel bar, barman
(photo: shankar s, creative commons license)

“If I had known history was to be written that Sunday in the International Hotel I might have made an effort to get out of bed before teatime,” writes Daniel Hamilton, an 18-year-old Belfast bartender and narrator of Glenn Patterson’s novel The International: A Novel of Belfast.

The history he refers to is the meeting to launch the Northern Ireland Civil Rights Association (NICRA), an organization formed to focus attention on discrimination against Northern Ireland’s mostly Catholic nationalist minority. We call the succeeding three decades of violence and despair The Troubles, and The International “is the best book about the Troubles ever written,” says Irish author and Booker-Prize-winner Anne Enright.

Funny thing is, there’s almost no overt violence in this book, apart from the fact it’s set in a busy bar with lots of coming and going and football on the telly and political shenanigans where money changes hands and gay men and straight women hoping to meet someone and people who should have stopped drinking hours before ordering another and weddings upstairs in the hotel, at one of which the clergyman plays an accordion. In other words, enough latent violence in reserve to keep the average semi-sober person on his toes.

The principal action of the novel takes place during on Saturday evening, January 28, 1967, the night before the big meeting, larded with Danny Hamilton’s memories of other times and barroom encounters. His minutely observed portrayal of everyday life as seen from behind the bar is heartbreaking when, with the lens of hindsight, the reader knows how soon it will all be gone, sucked into a slowly unwinding catastrophe of bombs and gunfire.

The quote at the top of this piece opens the book, and these words about a barmen who was shot dead, Peter Ward, also age 18, help close it:

I can’t tell you much else about him, except that those who knew him thought the world of him. He is, I realise, an absence in this story. I wish it were not so, but guns do that, create holes which no amount of words can fill.

I wrote about this book and a visit to Princeton by Belfast author Glenn Patterson a few years ago, and it seems apt to return to it on St. Patrick’s Day, especially given his writing’s emphasis on history and politics and his deep sense of place. He said that “when history looks back at our present, it will see that what we thought we were at and what we were at, really, were entirely different.” When we think about our current moment in America, that is a sobering thought.

Here’s Glenn Patterson’s list of his top 10 books about Belfast, compiled in 2012.

Oscars Live Action Shorts

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We squeezed in a trip to the local movie house to see the live action shorts the day before the awards ceremony. They were all fresh in our minds, and we both felt the Oscar went to the least interesting of them! Nevertheless, there’s something watchable for people of widely varying tastes. A characteristic common to four of the five nominees was that the ending was notably ambiguous. What happens next? We don’t know. Also, this year, none of them was particularly long. They’re in theaters so briefly, in case you missed them, here they are and how you can see them.

A Lien (USA)

A terrifying look at how America’s immigration crackdowns wield law and policy in unfair and dehumanizing ways. It involves a young couple—she’s American; he’s from Central America and has lived here for decades—visiting an immigration center with all their paperwork so he can get the green card he’s absolutely eligible for. What’s scariest is that you feel that such things happen not because the system is broken, but because it’s operating exactly as intended. (Watch it here.)

Anuja (India, USA)

Nine-year-old Anuja must choose between going to work in a sewing factory with her older sister and taking a test that may get her into a tuition-free school for gifted students. It’s a choice between the demands of the here-and-now versus the possibility of greater benefit in the future. The sisters—played by real-life street children—are charming. (Available for viewing on Netflix)

The Last Ranger (South Africa)

At a South African wildlife preserve, rangers engage in the dangerous job of protecting rhinoceroses from poachers. Stealing the horn is a lucrative business, and the film never lets you forget how noble are the rangers and how evil are the poachers. A young girl goes with the ranger one day. She’s charming, and the scenery is spectacular. (Apparently not available for streaming)

The Man Who Could Not Remain Silent (Croatia)

In 1993, a passenger train crossing Bosnia-Herzegovina is stopped by armed paramilitaries. They board, demanding to examine people’s papers. This conjures memories of every “escape from Nazi Germany” movie you ever saw. The people sharing a compartment with a man who admits he has no papers have to make choices, silence or courage. Based on the real-life Štrpci massacre and the death of Tomo Buzov, a former Yugoslav army officer. The film won the Short Film Palme d’Or at Cannes in 2024. (Watch it here.)

And now the winner: I’m Not a Robot (Belgium, Netherlands)

We see the action from the point of view of a woman working in the music business who fails her CAPTCHA test so many times her computer concludes she’s a robot. The absurdity of the situation spirals downward, as her grip on reality loosens. I wasn’t convinced. (See it here.)

The March of Television

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This spring promises several new television seasons and series that should be worth watching. But first, let me praise the extremely quirky Interior Chinatown, which we’ve watched over the last few months. It’s based on a 2020 novel by Charles Yu, which won the 2020 National Book Award for Fiction. A couple of episodes in, I realized I’d actually read this book. I did not get it at all. My reaction: “Huh?”

But someone must have, and the transition to the small screen is terrific. Jimmy O. Yang plays Willis Wu, a background character in a police drama set in a fictional city. His parents, especially his mom, have some hilarious moments, as does his fellow waiter, Fatty Choi, who thrives on insulting the restaurant’s customers. The plot is essentially indescribable, but Wu is on a quest to find out what happened to his older brother, whom the TV show calls “Kung Fu Guy.” Many hilarious and heartfelt moments. Watch it on Hulu.

On TV this spring, I’m looking forward to the televised version of Liz Moore’s Long Bright River, a book I enjoyed immensely. In it, a cop who works in Philadelphia’s rough Kensington neighborhood, scene of a series of prostitute murders, never escapes the fear that one day what she’ll find is the body of her renegade sister. Amanda Seyfried plays the police officer, Mickey Fitzpatrick. Excellent family interactions in the novel; I hope they’re preserved. Coming on Peacock March 13.

Damian Lewis will reprise his role as Henry VIII in Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light, the third book in the late Hilary Mantel’s riveting series about Tudor political shenanigans involving the King, Thomas Cromwell (Mark Rylance), and Cardinal Wolsey (Jonathan Pryce). The books were great, and the acting in this series, first aired in 2015 as Wolf Hall, is exceptional. Wolf Hall was the ancestral home of Henry’s third wife, Jane Seymour, the one (out of eight) he presumably most loved. It’s premiering March 23 on PBS.

Another season of Dark Winds arrives March 9 on AMC. This crime series, set on Arizona’s Navajo reservation, is based on Tony Hillerman’s popular books featuring Sheriff Joe Leaphorn and his deputy Jim Chee. Leaphorn is played by Zahn McClarnon, an actor I came to admire in the Longmire series, and Chee by Kiowa Gordon. The rest of the mostly Native American cast is also strong. And you can’t beat the beautifully stark Southwestern landscape.

I’ll also give a try to the British detective drama Ludwig, which aired on the BBC in 2024, but will be available on BritBox starting March 20. The title character (played by actor-comedian David Mitchell) is a puzzle-maker, and Ludwig is his pen name. His identical twin brother (I know, I know, beware of twins) is a Cambridge police DCI who’s gone missing. Ludwig poses as his brother to get access to police information about the disappearance. He is, of course, taken for the detective, and becomes caught up in the department’s investigations. Puzzle-solving should come in handy.

Delicious UK Crime Fiction

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What Doesn’t Kill Us by Ajay Close

Ajay Close’s new crime thriller is inspired by the notorious 1970s Yorkshire Ripper case, which prompted a massive and massively inefficient manhunt. In that case, the police eventually identified the killer, but were severely criticized for many aspects of their investigation.

Close’s fictional treatment contains elements of a police procedural, as the authorities stumble along almost completely devoid of clues and full of misplaced emphases. What sets this book apart, though, is the equal, if not greater, attention to the cultural milieu in which the crimes occurred. In that respect, it is a scathing social history.

Close has achieved an inspired juxtaposition here, using as her principal protagonist young police constable Liz Seeley, attached to the task force investigating a series of prostitutes’ murders. She knows firsthand about mistreated women, and, to escape her abusive boyfriend, she has moved to a communal house in Leeds, occupied by six feminists who hate the cops.

The attitude toward women that Liz experiences in the police department—condescending, salacious, misogynistic—is a dark side of male behavior. They don’t take much interest in the dead and engage in victim-blaming until the murder of a middle-class girl who is most definitely not in the sex trade. Liz is trapped between two behavioral and attitudinal extremes.

While male readers might want to give themselves a pass, because they don’t share those extreme beliefs or behaviors, they undoubtedly have seen it, may have tolerated it, and very possibly laughed it off, even if uncomfortably. In susceptible minds, endemic disrespect and hostility end up where Close’s investigators find them.

It’s a bit of a difficult read in the beginning because Close uses the street language and slang of Yorkshire residents of fifty years ago. But it is well worth the effort. It’s an important book, especially when we still receive too-frequent reminders of how willing some people (people who ought to know better) are to trot out the old prejudices and gender slurs, half a century later.

The Queen of Fives by Alex Hay

Now, escape the 21st c. for a romp in late-Victorian London. In this entertaining historical crime novel, Quinn le Blanc is the Queen of Fives, head of a once-large and notorious group of female con women, now reduced to her, her major domo, Mr. Silk, and a few loosely connected paid confederates of dubious loyalty.

Quinn’s actions are guided by a Rulebook created by her predecessor Queens, which lays out the rules for any number of confidence schemes, all of which follow a prescribed path and have in common the goal of obtaining something of value. Preferably a lot of value.

Quinn has selected an aloof young duke from the richest family of England as her quarry, and through an elaborate set of stratagems and disguises, sets out to trick him into marriage. It isn’t only his money she’s after; she’d like to derail his do-gooder step-mother whose charities are bent on tearing down old houses, including the traditional seat of the Queen of Fives.

But if the course of true love never did run smooth, neither in this case does the course of false love. A mysterious man, the duke’s suspicious sister, the duke’s secret love all conspire against the Queen. What’s most fun are the clever plots and quick-change artistry of the characters. Pure fun and mischief.

Washington’s Birthday Week

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As thoughts of the Presidency and Presidents fill the news in 2025, it’s interesting to think back on our country’s first president, born 22 February 1732—almost three centuries ago. Although there are many legends associated with him (I need to bake that cherry pie!), some more dubious than others, he without doubt was a prime reason the Continental Army was victorious in the American Revolution.

The battles of Trenton in late December 1776 and in Princeton January 3, 1777, were a turning point in the Revolutionary War. Only a few miles away, Washington and his troops had crossed the Delaware—memorialized in famous artworks—on the night of December 25-26.

Artist Charles Willson Peale, painted several similar versions of Washington and the Princeton battle that are owned by the Princeton University Art Museum. In the one above, Washington holds a rapier aloft, the battle is still under way. Three people can be seen on his left side (viewer’s right), one of whom was Washington’s friend, Virginia neighbor, and Revolutionary War hero, Hugh Mercer, who died of his battle wounds. This painting is called “Washington at the Battle of Princeton,” (1783/84) and the building in the far distance is Princeton’s Nassau Hall.  

This painting remains on display in Nassau Hall today. Its fancy gilded frame originally held a portrait of King George II “decapitated” during the battle by an American cannon ball, reportedly fired by the artillery company commanded by Alexander Hamilton. When Washington’s portrait replaced that of the monarch, the crown that had adorned the original frame was removed. Nassau Hall (pictured below) was built in 1756 and, in 1783, it served for four months as the US Capitol, being the largest academic building then in the colonies. Damaged to its exterior from another January 1777 cannonball remains, unrepaired.

The second painting, versions of which are in various museums and institutions around the country, including Princeton University, replaces the three men with a horse, a groom, and a cannon, the British flag crumpled at his feet. That version is titled “Washington After the Battle of Princeton” (painted between 1779 and 1782). Having grown up in the Midwest, where history didn’t seem so immediate, these connections to Washington are very precious.

So, Who Was St. Valentine, Anyway?

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Alumni of Catholic schools probably know this, but I’d forgotten any details, if I’d every known them, about the Old World St. Valentine, who lived in the third century—that is 1700 years ago. (You may be tempted to ponder who, today, will be remembered, at least in a positive way, in the year 3725?)

For a thousand years, the saint has been associated with “courtly love,” but don’t overlook his role as patron saint of epilepsy (not so romantic), beekeepers (honey is sweet, after all), and the Umbrian city of Terni (?). February 14 commemorates the day in CE 269 that the saint was martyred in Italy.

The link with courtly love is tenuous and might have grown from the saint’s practice of marrying Christian couples, whose marriages would otherwise have been prohibited. Poet Geoffrey Chaucer and his friends are often credited with bringing to light the legend of the saint’s love connection, which begins with Chaucer’s Parliament of Birds: “For this was on Seynt Valentynes day, Whan every foul (fowl) cometh there to chese his make (make his choice of mate).”

In the 1840s, St. Valentine’s Day was practically reinvented to become the glorious celebration of hearts, flowers, and chocolate we know today. Love the Jane Austen-y vintage-lookiing valentine!

Flickr photo credit: Adair733, Creative Commons license.

Where Legends Lie

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My friend Michael A. Black, a retired Chicago police officer, writes crime fiction and westerns. Now, I grew up with television (and movie!) westerns and spent a lot of time in what I thought of as the West—that is, West Texas where my grandparents lived—so I have a kind of sentimental attachment to the genre. When I was a kid, it seemed heroes and villains were made of very different stuff, and there was no doubt which was which. You could tell by their clothing, if nothing else (think of the Lone Ranger’s perfectly pressed shirt. What?) I met Roy Rogers and Trigger when I was 3. Clint Eastwood and the man with no name spaghetti Westerns began to add ambiguity and complexity, but in recent years, I found Walt Longmire and fell in love again.

Naturally, I’ve eagerly read several of Mike Black’s Westerns and, in his latest one, he pulls off quite a comfortable literary marriage. He manages to combine both traditional Western tropes and the 20th century’s most powerful cultural interpreter and mis-interpreter—Hollywood!

This is one of those split-narrative books that, when you’re reading one thread—say, events that occurred in Contention City, Arizona, in 1880—and the next chapter switches to the other narrative—the 1913 movie-making about those events—you’re momentarily jarred and possibly a bit disappointed because the 1880 (or 1913) story is so captivating.

In 1913, a veteran of the war in the Philippines, Jim Bishop, arrives statewide having no discernible job prospects. But his buddy has a relative working as a chef for a movie company in southern California. He’s counting on a job there and thinks they may take on Jim, too. En route, they befriend, of all people, journalist and fiction-writer Ambrose Bierce, always up for adventure, who disappeared that year. Jim and his friend get the movie jobs and Jim, especially, proves himself useful to the film company in various ways.

In 1880, Sheriff Lon Dayton hopes to end the reign of one of the Arizona’s outlaw gangs by offering the governor’s amnesty if they will turn themselves in. They agree. Unbeknownst to Dayton, the Mayor and his unscrupulous henchmen have other plans.

The chance to experience (fictional) 1880 events and the filmmakers’ recreation of them provides a nice contrast between two realities. The title of the book suggests that what we know about past events can be both unearthed, where they lie, and untrue, as they fib.

I greatly enjoyed the character of Jim, whom you first meet in a truly hair-raising battle overseas, which displays not only Black’s skill in creating a vivid scene, but reflects the multiple aims of a soldier at war. Staying alive, sure, but also saving whom you can and appreciating the enemy too. Dayton is a western hero in the full Gary Cooper tradition. No wonder Hollywood latched onto him like a rattlesnake on a mouse. If you’re looking for a story packed with adventure, as well as a reflection on how we mold the past to suit our present, you’ve found it!

Order from Amazon here.

The Dynasty That Keeps on Giving

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Last week, American Ancestors hosted a Zoom presentation about potential?? English ancestors—those lusty, murderous Tudors. I’ve been a fan of stage, screen, and tv interpretations of Tudorabilia starting with the BBCs The Six Wives of Henry VIII, now more than 50 years ago! and still memorable, on to Elizabeth (Cate Blanchett), up to the salacious (and highly inaccurate) The Tudors in 2007-2010, and the three volumes of the late Hilary Mantel’s prize-winning novels, which started with Wolf Hall, through their stage and television versions (Mark Rylance at his very best). So, of course I couldn’t miss this latest program, led by Curt Di Camillo, curator of Special Collections for the New England Historic Genealogical Society. Here are some tidbits.

Di Camillo started with a little background on what paved the way for the Tudors, and that was the War of the Roses, the Plantagenets—the longest running royal house in Britain—symbolized by the White Rose and the Lancasters (red rose). When Henry VII seized the throne from the reviled Richard III, he created the “Tudor Rose,” red and white a bit of transparent pandering.

(As an aside, if you missed last year’s film, The Lost King, the true story of a persistent English woman who went on a hunt for Richard III’s body, which scholars searched for fruitlessly for centuries, rent it!.)

But what I learned about the first Tudor, Henry VII, was less well known (to me at least). He was reviled as well, considered a usurper, and, possibly worst of all, he was Welch. He was under such threat he created a special bodyguard and designed their uniforms. You recognize them as the Beefeaters, who still wear Henry’s design today. For Britain, at least, Di Camillo says, Henry Tudor’s accession to the crown in 1485 represented the end of the Middle Ages.

He undertook a number of acts to establish his legitimacy. He introduced a gold coin, called a sovereign, that bore his image with the trappings of the monarchy, he married Elizabeth of York (who passed on her red-hair genes to her son and grandchildren). And he added the Henry VII Lady Chapel to Westminster Abbey, which now holds the remains of many English kings and queens. But it was up to his granddaughter, Queen Elizabeth I, daughter of Anne Boleyn, to employ England’s first spymaster, Sir Francis Walsingham, setting the stage for many great spy novels to come.

More information:
American Ancestors/New England Historic Genealogical Society
Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel
The Lost King
Elizabeth’s Spy Master: Francis Walsingham and the Secret War that Saved England (have not read this one)