Customer Reviews

Arms and the Women (Charnwood Library)

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(13)
3 star:		(0)
2 star:		(8)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

The opening chapters of Hill's latest Dalziel & Pascoe are an onslaught much like the storm at the close of the book. People and plots come howling in from all directions. I felt rather "gobsmacked" by all of it, but I kept on slogging through until it began to come together into a cohesive story.

Hill has the extraordinary ability to shift consciousness from one character to the next, and I suppose that's what kept me off balance. From Ellie Pascoe, to DC Novello, to the writer "Spelt from Sybil's Leaves," Hill proves that he understands the insides of people, the private side they keep to themselves. This novel is told primarily from the perspective of the women who drive it forward. Hill grasps the confusion of midlife, the roles of wife and mother, the longing for belonging of singlehood. After these things, the mystery plot itself is only a frame on which to project the people.

While Ellie Pascoe thwarts an attempted abduction, she leads the rest of the cast on an odyssey as she continues to seek comfort and meaning in her life. That we end up in a "cleansing" storm at the end of these Herculean labors is fitting.

The Dalziel/Pascoe series started out as typical of the British procedural: sharply drawn characters, intricate structure and plot, and most important, wonderful prose writing. In the past few installments, though, Hill has added a thematic twist to make things more interesting. For example, "Recalled To Life" uses "A Tale of Two Cities" as a leitmotif; "Bones and Silence" draws on the medieval mystery plays; and "On Beulah Height" uses Mahler's "Kindertodtenlieder". In this book, "The Odyssey", in a retelling by Pascoe's wife Ellie, provides a counterpoint to the main action involving high tech terrorism, South American drug smugglers, and a mysterious "Sybil" who watches over everyone through her computer. Hill once again demonstrates that he is the unsurpassed master of this genre, and is fully the equal of John Mortimer when it comes to pithy literary allusions. Afficionados of the more genteel and politically correct lady novelists. eg. P.D. James, Ruth Rendell/Barbara Vine, will have a hard time relating to the unrestrained Dionysian character of Andy Dalziel, and will be put of by the frequent use of humor to ward off the stultifying seriousness which so often oppresses those authors' works. Fans of Inspector Frost and American procedurals will be right at home though.

Maybe I'm biased because I enjoy Mr. Hill's novels so much as a whole. What I like best about this series is the way the writing complements the characters' personalities (literary and academic, and very, very human and realistic). For me, the weaving of three novels was intriguing--even the title is evocative (refer to George Bernard Shaw's "Arms and the Man"). As for the characters, I found them believable. I also feel like I know more about the main characters' psyches with every novel Hill writes (in this series). I think the unexpected events in the main plot that may seem like coincidence help build excitement. I wouldn't recommend this book as an introduction to the Dalziel and Pascoe stories, but I highly recommend it to fans who have some familiarity with them.

Having read "Recalled to Life" and the fine "On Beulah Height," two in a large series of novels featuring the characters Andy Dalziel and Peter Pascoe, I had formed a very high opinion of Reginald Hill's ability to render a tale believable and to sustain a reader's interest through hundreds of pages of finely written prose.
It is hard for me to believe that "Arms and the Women" was written by the same man. It is not just that the characters are mostly women or that with a shift in central character to Pascoe's wife Ellie there is a change in style to suit a woman's perspective, there is a marked decline in the quality of the writing as well.
Though two relatively minor characters, Daphne Aldermann, a high society friend of Ellie's and to a lesser extent the eccentric Leftie activist Feenie Macullum manage some lively banter, the dialog for the most part is an endless string of overly creative and unlikely phrases. This is compounded by the fact that whereas at the beginning of the book it is only Mrs. Pascoe that seems gushingly effusive, the further you read the more all the characters seem tainted with her overly emotive wordiness.
The character Ellie Pascoe in this book is writing a book and passages from it are included. I came to dread the pages of italicized text that signaled another round of Ellie's schmaltzy writing style. She called it her "Comfort Blanket," and had Hill been trying to pass her off as an amateur writer I think it would have been fine, but I'm of the opinion that the amateur style he employed in Ellie's passages began to seep out into the pages of the wider novel and poison everything it came into contact with. Even an IRA terrorist came across less like a figure from real life and more like an IRA terrorist who'd been written into a romance novel. He exuded much more sensitivity and feminine feeling than seemed natural in a man who is supposed to have murdered people.
I found myself wondering if Hill's wife might have written the book. I didn't see the same level of professionalism that was apparent in the two earlier books I'd read. The characters were not clearly delineated. Dalziel, the most endearing of the characters in the earlier books I'd read, in the few places he appeared here was at times his old gruff self, but even he fell into droning on with stream of consciousness revelations that seemed to give him a feminine twist. The plot was idiotic rather than just unlikely. Ellie at times had omniscient understanding of characters she'd barely been introduced to. She'd come to the most unlikely conclusions about characters and events that read like a cheap short cut to giving the characters genuine depth through what they themselves did.
Perhaps what sustains a reader's interest and belief in the plausibility of a story is a finely balanced set of ingredients. If so, Mr. Hill has gotten the mix wrong in "Arms and the Women."
In the earlier books of his I'd read, I felt disappointed that the story came to an end. I forced myself to slog through to the end of this one mainly sustained by curiosity as to what had gone wrong with the writer.

I am loathe to give Reginald Hill a 'bad grade', but if he were my student, he'd get one for this particular novel. I'd probably give him an A for effort, a B for unusual reliance on the Homerian stories (The Iliad etc.), a B for trying to understand women (which considering most guys flunk so this is really good!), and a C for plot devices, and a C- for confusion! As previous reviewers indicated, the reader often goes into the chapters on this particular book, and comes out the other end going "Huh?" I like not being able to determine exactly what is going on in the mystery. However, I like my reading to be straight forward, with a minimum of confusion. Hill tries too hard to be clever in this book (take my word for it, at least us Americans know you have better education then we do!). He flips from character to character too fast, and too awkwardly for the reader to assimilate.

I actually got a kick out of Ellie Pascoe's 'Comfort Blanket'. Her need to find an outlet for her energy and her intelligence after nursing her daughter to health (as well as her understanding that her priorities have changed) are totally understandable. She's waiting to see whether she will start being a published writer...Hill should know all about that. I was disappointed that she didn't follow through with this story about a chance meeting by Aneas and Odysseus, done in a more modern linguistic style. Given that Homer and other writers for the time period wrote in formal language that was not usually used in conversational language, I could very well get involved in the fat Odyseus (who was obviously a take off on fat Andy Dalziel).

Hill delves farther into the minds, psyches and lives of the women surrounding Dalziel and Pascoe. Did someone get on his case concerning being fair to the female gender? It's not absolutely necessary for him to abandon his usual protagonists, and cater to the feminist leanings of his readers. Just keep writing well, and most of us will be happy!

Karen Sadler

With Reginald Hill and his Dalziel and Pascoe series, one can usually expect an exciting police procedural thriller. In "Arms and the Women," Hill continues, this time setting up his own odyssey (without all those years coming and going) of sorts, this time taking on the IRA, South American drug lords, international terrorists, his government's intelligence agency, to name a few.

Pascoe's wife Ellie foils an attempted abduction, with more threats to follow. It is up to the Fat Man, Dalziel, to sort it all out and to direct us, in his inimitable fashion, to the conclusion. He describes Dalziel with the typical Hill wit: "Then he (Dalziel) smiled benevolently around the listening room like a medieval pope after a good burning and said, 'Nice to meet old friends, isn't it?'"

Along the way, of course, we get caught up in Hill's literary libations (mainly through Ellie Pascoe's Comfort Blanket, a for-her-eyes-only "mock epic" featuring, no less, Odysseus and Aeneas in the same story!). The author borrows not only from Homer and Virgil but from Charles Dickens, as his drama sometimes becomes melodrama, and all the myriad "loose ends" he's created them are neatly packaged by the time the novel ends.

Still, Hill's characters--helped along by the British TV series--are memorable ones and the author certainly holds his own in that pantheon of contemporary British mystery writers. "Arms and the Women" is a compelling read (Ellie's Comfort

Blanket is WELL worth the read! One could simply read it as a separate novel and it would work!) and not one to be missed. Olympian laurels to Hill!

Billyjhobbs@tyler.net

I have waited so many years to read an author as thrilling, hilarious, and intelligent as Reginald Hill. I have read many other books in this series and have been completely satisfied. That's why I was ASTOUNDED at how utterly BORING this was. The last fifty pages or so I actually skimmed, praying for the end to come. If this was the first Reginald Hill book I picked up, it would have without doubt never read him again, which would have been a great loss. I recommend skipping this book entirely, but give the others a chance, as they are quite good.

Picking up a new Dalziel/Pascoe mystery can be doubly rewarding. First, it's guaranteed that I'll like the writing and the central characters, because I always have. But sometimes Hill throws in a bonus - an element you wouldn't expect to find that weaves through the main plot with illuminating results. This time it's shades of Homer. (Not Simpson - the other guy, although the prospect of Andy hoisting a few Duffs with Bart's dad has definite appeal.) The story begins with glimpses into several unidentified characters' minds. Who are these people? What are they going on about? It's confusing but not frustrating because we know Hill will ultimately lock all the puzzle pieces into place and show us the big picture. This time it's downright epic with the raging sea playing one of its most pivotal roles since the Odyssey, and the women finding resources that would have made Aeschylus proud. Not that Dalziel and Pascal are ever far away. When they're not on stage as themselves, they're there in the characters of Odysseus and Aeneas, as written by Ellie with perception, humor and surprising (in one case) affection. Hill can get inside the minds of not only his heroes - but women, children, Greeks, cats, killers, and thankfully readers.

If there is something that remains to be written, that is a bad Dalziel-Pascoe book. Those of us who have become fans of Hill's intricate and witty style will not necessarily be disappointed by this latest entry. In my own personal case, however, I doubt that this one will be counted among my favorites. It is true that there is not enough of Dalziel, that most loveable of all fiction detectives (his appearance under the guise of Odysseus, with Pascoe as Aeneas, in Ellie Pascoe's mock novel is not nearly enough), but the real problem, I think, is the plot itself, which is more overwrought than complicated, and not nearly as interesting as one has got to expect from this series. Also, I guess newcomers will be totally bewildered, not only because it is taken for granted that you already know the main characters very well, but also, characters from previous books show up unannounced, and even us followers of the series can't remember all of them (I know at least that I don't). I am only grateful that this was not the first book in the series I've ever read, because I don't think I would have been tempted to follow it, and that would be my loss! To those of you who have never heard of Dalziel and Pascoe, please read first some other book in the series, such as On Beulah Height, Deadheads or Recalled to Life.

On Beulah Height will probably be remembered as one of the ten best works of detective fiction of the last century; it's that good. But readers who had that as the first introduction to the Pascoe and Fat Andy series will probably be confused by this one. It's remarkable that Hill can go from an hysterical village farce such as Pictures of Perfection to such haunting stories as Bones and Silence and On Beulah Height. This is one of his funny ones. Those of us who have followed Fat Andy and Peter from the beginning will be laughing hysterically throughout this book; you should make a point of reading Dead Heads before you read this one.