When I was recently invited to join a small book club under the auspices of something of a celebrity librarian where I live--she organizes successful events and authors readings, many of which I have attended over the years--I couldn't resist accepting. What kind of books might this small and intimate grouping of admirers of fine literature read? A list of books covering the next few months to come was intriguingly diverse in style, genre, time period. This would be an interesting exploration, no doubt pushing me to read books I might never have otherwise read. Including the first book on the list: Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear. Two of this series, in fact. The first one, then a second of our own choosing. I headed for the library, but the first book was off the shelf. Perhaps another book club member. So I chose another in the series, skimming through several. I was not familiar with the author or the series, as mysteries, admittedly, are not a genre I favor. As soon as I opened the book to read, I was reminded why. They all seem painfully alike. The only difference here is that Maisie Dobbs, detective-psychologist, was female rather than the tiresome Bogey-type that seems to keep popping up in other detective novels. And you know that "Girl Friday"? The fawning, too-sexy-for-her-own-good type who is doggedly devoted to Bogey to the point of being codependent? In this book, Maisie's sidekick would be a cockney called Billy Beale, a retired vet with a bum leg. Yes, he's doggedly devoted if blessedly married. I rolled my eyes. I had to wonder, why do readers so enjoy these types of series, alike as a stack of pancakes, with characters all cast from the same mold, predictable as formula? I don't get it. And then, of course, I got immersed in the book. It took a while. And I did roll my eyes once more as I read an editorial miss, where a main character, Joseph Waite, a wealthy man who hires Maisie to find and bring home his missing daughter (32 years old! I'd be missing, too!) grinds out his cigar after enjoying his smoke. Grinds? Mind you, as editor-in-chief of a literary ezine called The Smoking Poet, featuring an extensive page on cigars called Cigar Lounge, I know a thing or three about cigars. You never grind out a cigar. Cigarettes, yes, but cigars give out toxic, bitter fumes when so ground. Any cigar smoker worth her ash knows this. Adding insult to cigar injury, Mr. Waite has the seemingly same cigar magically reappear in his fingers a page later as he and Maisie stroll the gardens. Oops. Yet once the smoke had cleared, I found myself reading the book more and more often, each time for a longer sit. The British author, Jacqueline Winspear, knows her twists and turns. She also does her homework well, if not particularly on the grinding of a stogie, because the story is rich with historical detail and color. It is set in London, spring of 1930. There are scenes in city and outlying areas, flashbacks to The Great War, and doings and ongoings with coppers in Scotland Yard's Murder Squad. Keeping this time period in mind, the accomplishments of Maisie Dobbs are very respectable. Once a battlefield nurse, she has now made her place in a male-dominated field of private investigators, so not only does she need to solve her case, she must solve it with more finesse than any male counterpart. I'm liking this. Unlike most detective novels, this detective is also, happily, no womanizer. What a relief. A woman herself, she deals with the opposite sex respectfully, even while demanding respect. Yet, just like a woman, when she is dealing with a heartbroken victim, of whatever gender, she is compassionate and kind, gathering her information even while soothing the broken and setting things right. No damsel in distress she! Indeed, Maisie's great love is a soldier who is so wounded in war that she now visits him regularly in a home, even though he cannot any longer respond to her presence. An under story here is that Maisie is struggling to find the right place for her heart: to remain faithful to her love, a physically and mentally broken man, yet open it to a future possibility of happiness. She is not without her suitors, including a detective inspector at Scotland Yard, who is at times ego-wounded when Maisie solves cases that leave him floundering and accusing an innocent man. And Doctor Dene, a kinder and more considerate sort, who seems to be something of a kindred spirit. Yet these hinting-of-future-romance characters never become more than passing background to the story--a wise choice on the author's part, or this would move too far into another, cheaper genre. (Hurrah for books about women that aren't always centered around romance!) Maisie pursues her clues with dogged determination yet light touch. Adding to that feminine approach, she seems to use intuition as much as logic to solve her case, and is quite comfortable doing so. Sidekick, Billy Beale, the limping veteran, is a good help to her, but she notices his quiet struggle with an addiction often seen in veterans at that time, too--cocaine. A history lesson woven into the story tells us soldiers were given morphine and other painkillers in unmeasured doses on the battlefield, often leading to addiction. Maisie helps Billy get back on the straight and narrow perhaps a little too easily, and without interrupting her pursuit of the missing heiress, now joined in a tightening circle of two other women, found murdered. The book title comes from the link between all three women: white feathers. Another fascinating historical sidenote, but one I won't here reveal. Maisie notes this tiny detail and eventually catches the bird, so to speak. It is a pretty remarkable scene when she does. Masterful, even. One very much, I think, requiring a female author. Judge for yourself. As for me, I'm pleased to have been nudged into reading this detective novel, even as I continue to be less than a fan of the genre, but a fan won over by Maisie Dobbs.
I really wanted to like Maisie Dobbs. A new mystery solver for me, based in the London of 1930. What I found was a mixture of Agatha Christie and Nancy Drew, with a hint of No 1 Ladies. Maisie is a Nancy who grew up in London, and like Nancy, is described flawless. She drives in her fancy car around the city resolving mysteries her police friend can't solve without her help, yet she does not want to become a full policewoman or investigator. Instead of a Ned Nickerson she has a helper called Billy, a morphine addict since the war, who is great to his family, and who has a South London accent. Maisie shows her above the other-ness by not using an accent.I haven't read the fist book, but this one is the second one in the series. Nancy Maisie's new gig is finding a missing woman in her 30s, whose father is worried about her. When she investigates where Charlotte is, suddenly a lot of her friends are killed or have committed suicides. Maisie finds something in all the "suicide" scenes, but the clue is never revealed in the story. (spoiler: think about the title!) Until the end when the murderer is caught.Well, it's a classically built mystery. If you like Agatha Christie and want a grown-up Nancy Drew in year 1930, here you go. But I need way more action, and I've grown to like characters with flaws. Other than how little the heroin eats while picking the fish on her plate. Real flaws in their character, things that might explain how they have become what they are, and stronger motives. Also I like way more action and things to be more outrageous in some way.
Do You like book Birds Of A Feather (2015)?
I gave this second book in the Maisie Dobbs series a chance, after a lukewarm reaction to the first book. I ended up not really liking the second one either, which is a shame, because they have such great potential. A young, female detective in London in the years after World War I sounds like a great premise for a mystery series. But it's the execution of the characters that I just didn't like. In this second book, Maisie Dobbs is investigating the disappearance of the daughter of a wealthy store owner. Her disappearance is linked to the war and several other people who have died. The mystery in "Birds of a Feather" is actually compelling, with good plot twists, strong details, and clues, but the writing is something I just can't get over.Maisie Dobbs herself is drawn to be just a little too perfect and a little too precious. In a mystery series, I just can't stand for the main character to have "shiny, jet-black tresses," or to constantly be pushing "loose tendrils" of hair out of her face. In my experience, tresses and tendrils belong in romance novels, not in mysteries. I said in my review of book #1 that Maisie Dobb's absolute control and perfection also get on my nerves, and she's still perfect in book #2. She's never flustered, never put out, never says the wrong thing. I guess I prefer my heroes and heroines to be a little more human, and a little less perfect.In all, I love the premise of these books, but the writing of the main character is enough to turn me off. It's all just a little bit too precious and cloying for me. YMMV.
—Leah
3.5 starsSo I am not entirely ready to give up on this series yet. While I am struggling to make a connection to Maisie, I like her enough to keep reading and am curious to see how she pulls herself up from the ashes. I can’t say that I love her as much as other female detectives that I’ve read but I am trying to give her a shot.I liked this book a little better than the first one. It was a little cliche at times and not really heavy on the mystery, but it was intriguing enough for me to keep reading. I liked the Great War connection and I felt that that piece was what really kept me reading.I also liked the potential for a romance in her future. In the first book, her first love is damaged beyond repair and Maisie is kind of stuck in limbo, unwilling to move on with her life. In this book it seemed like she was finally willing to consider other potential suitors and I am looking forward to seeing how that plays out in future books.Part of me felt frustrated by Maisie’s techniques in this book that I don’t remember from the previous book. For example, Maisie would interview someone or would discover a clue and then not reveal to the reader some of the info that was given or what the clue was.That was frustrating, I felt like I was deliberately being kept in the dark so that I wouldn’t figure out the mystery. In essence I felt like I was not working ‘with’ Maisie on the mystery or being able to try and put things together but rather being told about the mystery.This book was more about the mystery than in the previous book so I did like that we are kind of moving into the whole mystery part of the story more rather than focusing on Maisie’s personal life.I would be willing to give this series another book or two before I decide if I will keep reading. It wasn’t ‘bad’, it was definitely an improvement over the first book but still needs a little ‘something’…..hopefully the potential romance will add that little something that I am looking for to hook me in this series!See my full review here
—The Lit Bitch
It is now 1930, and this second installment in the Maisie Dobbs mystery series finds Maisie's detective services requested by the rich grocery chain owner Joseph Waite, whose 30+ year old daughter Charlotte has run away from the family home and her feckless lifestyle. Maisie and her sidekick Billy Beale once again delve into the pain and anguish caused by WWI, and encounter a mystery tinged with loneliness, grief and revenge. In her quest to solve Charlotte's disappearence, Maisie uncovers the murder of 2 of Charlotte's girlhood firends, as well as the suspicious suicide of a third. Might Charlotte make up a fourth death, or is Charlotte a murderess?While I completely enjoyed this foray back into Maisie's sleuthing world, I found Birds of a Feather did have some problems with it, IMO. Firstly, Maisie comes across as a very cold and unfeeling character, and I don't quite buy into all her intuitiveness (or her appeal to men) as a result. Secondly, I feel that Winspear lays on Maisie's new-agey-zen-like detecting methods with too heavy a hand; it's Tibetan monk meets "The Ghost Whisperer", and it leaves me scratching my head that she could accomplish anything beyond calming her inner detective. That being said, this installment provided another entertaining mystery for the reader who enjoys a more unconventional detective. I will continue reading the Maisie's Dobbs series to see what else Winspear has in store for her creation.
—Hannah
