Review | Those Opulent Days, by Jacquie Pham

The murder mystery in Those Opulent Days serves as a jumping-off point for a deep dive exploration and expose of the various complexities around racial and class disparities during 1928 French-colonial Vietnam.

As someone unfamiliar with Vietnamese history, I was fascinated by this glimpse into the country’s history. The way Vietnamese characters (referred to as “Annanites” in this novel) automatically provide more deference to French nationals, and the way in which wealthy Vietnamese characters set themselves apart from their poorer counterparts by adopting aspects of French culture, felt raw and distressingly true. They reminded me of how colonization by Spain and then the United States of America also resulted in similar ripple effects in the Philippines, where I grew up. Almost a century since independence, and we still talk about “colonial mentality,” and how we must fight against some of these beliefs that we have internalized.

The murder mystery centres on a quartet of friends from wealthy families: Duy, Phong, Minh, and Edmond. One of them ends up dead during a weekend at Duy’s family’s vacation home, and it isn’t till much later in the book that we learn who the victim was, and who may have wanted him dead. There isn’t much of an investigation, nor much suspense over the reveal. While the incident serves as a focal point for the events of the story (most of the novel’s events happen within a week of the death), the murder itself isn’t actually the focus of the story.

Rather, the story is about the lives of these four young men, and how the social inequities during the period play out in their families. I love how Pham explores the subtleties in their relationship through minor details, like how Duy’s family’s opium business makes them powerful in one way, but Minh’s family’s rubber business actually makes him the wealthiest of the group. More significantly, Edmond being French and white immediately accords him and his family prestige that even Minh’s wealthy and powerful family can’t achieve.

We learn how Phong is the smartest of the group, and how his father maintains his deceased first wife’s primacy by sending the children of all his subsequent wives to work in Minh’s factories and fields. We also learn how Edmond’s mother is so racist that she rubs her hand raw when a Vietnamese man accidentally brushes against it, never mind that he’s literally royalty. Pham sprinkles all these details throughout that truly make this world come to life. Whomever is killed, and whomever the murderer turns out to be, it’s clear that the villain in this novel is French colonization, and the way that Vietnamese people are second-class citizens on their own land.

Possibly because of this theme, the chapters I found most powerful are those from the perspectives of Vietnamese servants in Minh’s household: Hai, a kind-hearted maid whose romance with Minh threatens the elevated place in society that Minh’s mother has fought so hard to attain, and Tattler, an ambitious housemaid who hates the upper class until she realizes she actually really wishes to be one of them. Both are doomed by the circumstances of their birth and the society they must learn to navigate, and amongst all the glitzy glamour — the opulence, so to speak — the four main characters inhabit, Hai and Tattler’s chapters provide us a grittier counterpoint. Their stories show us that, however much we sympathize with Duy, Minh, Phong, and Edmond for their struggles within social structures, the four men are also somewhat complicit in keeping those structures going.

Hurt people hurt people, and this novel explores the many ways that power imbalances can lead to people lashing out to those who are less powerful. There’s a powerful moment near the end where characters are forced to confront the harsh limits of their own power, and yet there’s another, equally powerful, moment where power structures are subverted when a character takes control of their own destiny. Overall, this is a fascinating, multi-layered, and textured historical novel, one where a murder mystery is a powerful metaphor for all the complex and simmering tensions amongst a people longing to regain control over their own homeland.

+

Thank you to Publishers Group Canada for an advance reading copy in exchange for an honest review.

I Try to Solve a Dorothy L Sayers Mystery | The Nine Tailors

Hoping Sherlock Holmes tea will help me solve this case!

Ahh… I tried solving this for my blog, but gave up halfway through.

The Nine Tailors is beautifully written. The “tailors” in the title refers not to suit-makers, but rather to the nine bells in a small village church. The story begins with Lord Peter and his trusty valet Bunter getting stranded at a small village on New Year’s Eve, and taken in by the local priest. The church has planned an overnight performance of its bells to ring in the New Year, one of the bellringers has called in sick, and Lord Peter gets a chance to join in the bellringing himself. As the hours pass, he also gets to know more about the people in the village, and all the little bits of local gossip.

Fast forward a few months, and Lord Peter receives a call from the parish: a body has just been discovered in another person’s grave. Could he come over and help them figure out who it is, and how it got there? Lord Peter of course agrees immediately, and I was equally intrigued.

I also have a soft spot for my copy: I found it in a thrift shop, and there’s a lovely handwritten line pencilled in cursive, “from my mother, 2010”, plus an embossed snowflake name, “Natalie Neill.” So I like thinking about Natalie Neill, and her mother, and how they may have shared a love for old British mysteries and maybe even Dorothy Sayers in particular.

But as a mystery for me to solve, it was a bit too dense for me to really sink my teeth into. Who was the dead body in the churchyard? How did they die? Why were they tied up, and why were their hands taken? Parallel to this, and somewhat linked, is the mystery around a jewelry theft at a wealthy woman’s home years ago. How were the jewels actually stolen? Were the right persons charged with the crime? Where did the jewels go? Added to the mix is a whole cast of characters who may or may not be involved, a stranger who visited during New Years and also may or may not be involved, and a potentially coded message whose key may lie amongst the parish bells.

Lord Peter Wimsey does his best to solve the case, in his methodical way, but it seems each new answer only gives rise to more questions. There are also too many characters for me to keep straight, and as much as I tried to stay interested in the whole history behind the jewel theft, I just ended up making my head hurt. Probably around the halfway point, I decided to stop trying to figure things out, and just enjoy the ride.

My enjoyment of the story did increase after that, because then I could just enjoy how wonderfully Sayers crafts the atmosphere for her story. I loved imagining myself in this small village, and hearing the beautiful church bells for myself. Sayers describes the bells’ songs beautifully; I honestly had no idea how much music and harmony were involved in bellringing.

It turns out that letting go of the need to solve the mystery did in fact actually lead me to solving a key component of the case. I managed to guess the cause of death, and I honestly think I was only able to do so because I’d stopped worrying so much about tracking all the little details involved.

The rest of the big reveals were a surprise to me. I thought the story of how the victim ended up dead made sense, and I thought Sayers did such a great job at humanizing the people involved, so that the reveal evoked more of an emotional response beyond just an “aha!” moment. I actually felt for those involved in the death, and for how things turned out in the end.

Overall, a beautifully told story, and like I said, the mother-daughter connection gave me a soft spot for my copy. As a mystery, it wasn’t among my successes, nor, quite frankly, was it all that much fun to try. Possibly others will have more luck / enjoy the attempt more, but for me, I recommend simply sitting back with this, and letting yourself enjoy seeing the story unfold.

I Try to Solve an Agatha Christie Mystery | Murder is Easy (Superindentent Battle)

There’s a BBC adaptation of Murder Is Easy coming to BritBox in March that looks pretty good, so I wanted to try my hand at solving the case myself before checking it out. The ebook was fortuitously available at the library, and its cover just as fortuitously matched with my recently-purchased ube keso Selecta ice cream. 

The set-up is fantastic: retired detective Luke Fitzwilliam meets fluffy elderly lady Miss Pinkerton on a train to London. Miss Pinkerton is from a sleepy little village, and she’s headed to Scotland Yard because she’s convinced one of her neighbours is a murderer. And not just any murderer, but one who has already killed several people, and seems to be on course to kill their next victim. 

Luke gives Miss Pinkerton a kindly smile, wishes her luck, and thinks nothing more of it, until he reads in the paper that shortly after their encounter, she is killed in a hit and run. He also learns of a death in her village: Dr Humbleby, the very person she’d identified as the murderer’s next victim. His curiosity piqued, Luke heads to the village himself, posing as the visiting cousin of a young woman his friend knows, and sets out to find the identity of the killer.

It’s a fantastic setup, and the puzzle aspect of the story is pretty well-constructed. Luke is a methodical investigator, and we meet each suspect and learn about each victim in turn. Yet for some reason, the story isn’t quite gripping me like Christie’s books usually do. I’ve enjoyed some Christie stand-alones, so it can’t just be the absence of my beloved Marple or Poirot. Possibly, it’s just my mood, and if I were to re-read this again another time, I may enjoy it more. As it is, I do really want to watch the BBC adaptation (Miss Pinkerton is played by the Dowager Countess’s best frenemy in Downtown Abbey!), so I’ve kept going on to figure out whodunnit.

There’s also a romantic subplot, which should come as no surprise to any long-time Christie fan the minute we meet Luke’s host Bridget. She is young, more arresting than beautiful, clever enough to see through Luke’s cover story almost immediately, and engaged to her wealthy and much older employer for purely pragmatic reasons. In a mystery by another writer, she would’ve been my immediate prime suspect, but I’d already made the mistake of forgetting Christie’s romantic streak in The Moving Finger, so I’m going to guess she’s innocent.

Since Bridget is not on my suspect list, there’s honestly only one person I think it can be. A case could be made for a secondary suspect, and more than likely, the murderer turns out to be one of the many other suspects I don’t think did it. But I feel pretty strongly about my first choice, so I’m going to lock it in at the 81% mark, and see how I do.

As an aside, I’m almost done with the book, and Superintendent Battle still has not appeared? Perhaps he’ll show up in the final chapter for the big reveal? And perhaps we’ll learn that Miss Pinkerton did manage to share her suspicions with him after all before she died. Perhaps the case would have been solved even without Luke’s involvement, but with a couple or so extra victims, because Battle had to deal with more pressing matters before getting to this one.

Did I Solve It?

Yes I did. I figured out whodunnit, and I kinda figured out the motive, even though I saw it all sideways. (I figured out the driving force behind the killings, but I got the emotions behind it all wrong.)

This isn’t quite as exciting for me as other Christies I’ve read. It was fine, and I’m not used to Christie’s books being just “fine.”

I do appreciate Christie’s commentary here about the importance of paying attention to women’s instincts. Other than Miss Pinkerton, there were two other women characters who had an inkling whodunnit, but because they lacked proof beyond a vague feeling, they kept quiet and doubted themselves. For at least one of the women, Luke’s certainty about a particular aspect of the killings made her decide her suspicions were totally off the mark. But as it turns out, as methodical as Luke’s investigative methods are, and as logical as his reasoning may be, he ultimately is a bit of a bumbler.

So, to learn from Dame Agatha: trust your gut, ladies. You do know things you don’t even realize you know.

***SPOILERS BELOW***

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