The Case of the Murderous Dr Cream by Dean Jobb

For about fifteen years in the late 19th century, Dr Thomas Neill Cream went on a murder spree in Canada, the United States and England, merrily poisoning people wherever he went and moving on when suspicions began to gather. He got away with it for so long thanks to police incompetence and the sexist and classist (but he’s a doctor!) attitudes of the day. (Of the day, I write, as if those things don’t exist any more. Sigh.)

Dean Jobb lays out the case in an enthralling and spectacularly researched fashion that makes it both a pleasure and infuriating to read. I don’t often say this, but all of the hype and five-star reviews and shortlists for awards are well deserved. Wholeheartedly recommended.

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I should have been named Flora

me: Maybe I should take a brisk walk out to the river and back to get a bit of fresh air and clear out the cobwebs. But brisk, mind you, because I have a lot to do. Busy busy.

me, a few minutes later: I’ll just pick these raspberries first to eat on the way. Ooh, look at the big pawprints in the mud. Aw, now that’s a pretty leaf and, oh look, another one. And another one. And another. Oh wow, there are still so many weeds in bloom. Amazing. I’d better stop to take a picture of every single one. And pick a few to make a bouquet.

me, grumbling before bed: Why do I get so little done in a day? Stupid housework.

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definitely not heading off to poop

Glen has always been sensitive about being watched while he does his business so he’ll look at me like this, waiting impatiently, until I pretend to be distracted by a plant or a cloud or a bug and it’s safe to sneak away. He’s definitely the most privacy-conscious dog I’ve ever met so don’t tell him about this post.

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Mariana by Monica Dickens

Once again, I am so grateful to Persephone Books for introducing me to an author I’d likely never have encountered if not for their efforts to reissue neglected women authors of the early 20th century.

We’re all well aware of Monica Dickens’s famous great-grandfather, a certain Charles, but I had never read any of Monica’s work until Mariana. I’ll be seeking out more.

First published in 1940, Mariana tells the story of a young Englishwoman named Mary who is reflecting on her life during a sleepless night spent waiting for word on her husband, whose ship has been sunk in battle. It’s a bit of a sad, stressful beginning, but from there on, Mary’s recollections of her family, education and early loves are a pleasure to read, even when they make you cringe.

Funny, tart, well-observed and definitely recommended.

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