Customer Reviews

The Vault: An Inspector Wexford Novel

5 star:		(10)
4 star:		(21)
3 star:		(7)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

In 2009, the Telegraph newspaper reported that Ruth Rendell didn't want to write any more Inspector Wexford novels after The Monster in the Box. I had read and enjoyed all the previous books in the series and I was worried about reading The Monster in the Box, thinking that if Rendell was tired of Wexford, it might show in the book. But the book was a truly enjoyable wrap-up to the series, with Wexford tackling a case that took him back to his earliest days in the police force, and his mixed-up personal life at that time.

Though Rendell's editor denied the Telegraph report of the end of Wexford, it was still a surprise to hear this year that there would be a new Wexford novel. The Vault finds Wexford retired and splitting his time, with his wife Dora, between their longtime home in Kingsmarkham and the coach house of their actress daughter's upmarket home in London. Retirement is good for Wexford's physical health, as he spends hours a day taking long walks in the city, but he finds himself at loose ends without his detective work. He's relieved when Tom Ede of London's Metropolitan Police, an old acquaintance, asks him to provide consulting assistance in the investigation of four long-dead bodies found down an ancient coal-hole on the grounds of a fine house in quiet St. John's Wood.

The Vault is a sequel of sorts to one of Rendell's non-Wexford suspense novels, A Sight for Sore Eyes. There is no need to have read A Sight for Sore Eyes to follow The Vault, but it adds interest. And added interest is a good thing to have in this case. The Vault is not a bad book, but it lacks sparkle, is sometimes plodding and just not quite up to Rendell's usual standard.

With a couple of exceptions, the various witnesses and suspects are so one-dimensional that it's difficult to keep them straight. The secondary story strand, about Wexford and Dora's Kingsmarkham daughter, Sylvia, is somehow lurid and dull at the same time. The editing could use some work too. Yearly dates are given as, for example, twenty-oh-six, two thousand six, and 2006. A long paragraph on the first page of the book is unclear and I needed to re-read it a couple of times to be sure I had it straight. But there were some interesting observations on Wexford's new role as a consulting detective; someone who has no official standing, and how it affects his interactions with interviewees and the police.

I was glad to spend time again with Inspector Wexford and hope to read more in the series. Wexford's unofficial role presents some new possibilities that I hope Rendell will explore. I just hope that next time around, the book is more up to the series' usual standard. If you haven't read any Inspector Wexford books, this isn't the book to start with. That would be the first in the series, From Doon With Death. Alternatively, The Monster In the Box can be read as a standalone.

Ruth Rendell knows London like the back of her hand, and she shares her love of the city with us. We learn of the mansions that in time became slums and then restored to their original lustre. She loves to share the inequality of the rich and poor. She has brought back Superintendent Wexford, except he has retired. He is asked by a friend in the Met to come on board has a consultant; no pay, just the glory.

Orcadia House, an old house in St John's Wood has turned up four bodies under an old drain cover. Wexford works with several members of the police department in this mystery. He has no official standing, and, yet, few people question that. I find it quite strange that he does not have some form of professional ID. Wexford delves into the case, and in the process does so much walking that he loses weight. Weight and growing older have become an issue in the past two novels, and Wexford wants neither. His wife used to forbid him some foods, until he could maintain. But then, he meets often with another friend, Inspector Burden, and they share stories with their red wine, no snacks for Wexford. Into this mystery comes a personal tragedy when his daughter is stabbed by a young lover. She recovers but the fact of this woman with three children of her own, having an affair with a young man only a few years older than her son, leaves the family with a moral dilemma. Wexford and his wife, Dora are supportive, but in their own way show their disapproval. Wexford not only needs to find the murderer of the four from Orcadia House, now he must find this young man who has taken his daughter's car and run away.

Ruth Rendell has brought us to London and describes the various neighborhoods via Wexford's eyes. She gives us a real feel for the London that she inhabits. Wexford acting as a consultant without any professional ID is so out there, that it does not really fit. I love Wexford's character, but if he continues in this vein, he must find some form of professional identity. This novel was one that captivated me, and the mystery led from one clue to another, but towards the end, the clues seemed to run together very quickly instead of being developed slowly. However, this was a story that kept me involved, and it is easy to overlook these minor annoyances. The character development is a very strong point. Wexford is a man we would all want to be in our lives.

Highly Recommended. prisrob 09-17-11

Tigerlily's Orchids: A Novel

Face of Trespass

Brief summary and review, no spoilers.

Inspector Wexford has (finally) retired and he and his wife Dora are spending some time in London at their daughter Sylvia's second home. But the good inspector doesn't have too much time on his hands when a Detective Superintendent named Tom Ede asks Wexford for some help on a perplexing case.

The case is this - four bodies are found in a coal hole at an expensive home in a nice part of London. Two men and one woman appear to have been placed in that hole many years before, but one of the victims, a young woman, has only been placed there withint the last couple of years. One of the things confusing the detectives is why (and when) a staircase leading to the hole from the house was sealed over yet the only access, a manhole cover outside, remained intact. Also puzzling is the fact that expensive jewelry is found in one of the men's pocket.

Add into the mix are some personal problems between Sylvia and her parents (no surprise there, and a secret of Sylvia's that comes to light with bad repercussions.

I have to admit that the Wexford series is my least favorite of the Ruth Rendell/Barbara Vine mysteries. They are usually a real hit or miss to me.

When I first started this story I thought it was going to be a "miss" because I found I couldn't get a rapport going with any of the assorted characters (other than Wexfor and family.) It seemed like a lot of names came from that past and it was a little confusing and I wasn't turning the pages quickly the way I do a normal Ruth Rendell novel. BUT, around a third through the book it really kicked in for me, and it turned out to be one of the better Wexford books for me. There are clues and interesting characters, and I enjoyed the denouement.

Here's the thing you should know - one of my very favorite Ruth Rendell books was A Sight for Sore Eyes. If you enjoyed that book - I encourage you to reread it before you read this. More I don't want to say because of potential spoilers. (And the cover of the book mentions A Sight for Sore Eyes so I don't think mentioning that is a spoiler.)

Recommended, for the reasons mentioned above.

Ruth Rendell of course the queen of the mystery. Although I was captivated by this book from the beginning and middle, she had so many characters that by the ending I really didn't know who the bad guy was and ended up flinging the book across the room, scaring my dog.

I have read a good deal of Ruth Rendell's work, including a great number of her Inspector Wexford whodunnits. So far I have always enjoyed reading her books, which is why I was all the more disappointed with this one. Basically, the story of The Vault deals with two issues: the fact that Wexford is now retired and how he is coping with that and secondly there is the murder mystery of who has put four dead bodies over a course of time in a manhole. I won't tell you more about the story, since you still might wish to read it for yourself. There are, however, a number of issues which taken together have spoilt the reading experience for me:

First, there seems to be a major problem with the proof-reading department at Random House, which could explain the numerous typos and some of the more obvious mistakes such as the "...gaudy flyovers that came through the coach house letter box everyday" or the miraculous name change of Burden to Burton. This, however, is not a major problem; after all, famous Virginia Woolf also fiddled around with the names of her characters, sometimes changing them intentionally, sometimes unintentionally.

Second, the reason I so much like the Wexford novels is that Wexford somehow epitomizes an, albeit romanticized, contrast between rural/quaint and modern/metropolitan England. I rather like his old-fashioned attitude, especially when it comes to language use. One of Rendell's frequent phrases that she lets Wexford use is "if that was the word." With these words Rendell probably wants to show that Wexford is critical of what he considers to be a fashionable and sloppy use of language. Thus he is frequently portrayed as slightly out of touch with our modern world. What in most of the Wexford stories seems credible, however, does not work in this one. Let me give you an example: "He passed the car the punter (if that was the word) had just left parked on a double yellow line, passed the white van..." For me this line raises the question as to which retired police officer, even if he's only worked in the countryside (and has never sent an email before), would call a punter a punter and would not be sure about this being the right word for someone who frequents prostitutes? This sort of quaintness seems so contrived; it verges on the ridiculous and thus becomes annoying.

Third, I can see that Wexford may have been designed as a character that develops over the course of time and one must allow for a certain change of character, but having read so many other Wexford whodunnits, I was struck by the following sentence that seemed so much out of character that I was beginning to ask myself whether or not there is still the same author at work. Holding his grown-up daughter Wexford thinks: "Hugging a large damp woman with greasy hair who smells of sweat is not a pleasant experience, even if she is your child" Wexford then reprimands himself for having had this thought, but in the light of Rendell's other novels I still find this a rather odd passage.

Finally, I should mention that there is, after all, one subplot where Rendell really manages to create suspense, but still, if you haven't yet read any of her other books don't begin with this one.

I've read everything that Ruth Rendell has written and was so disappointed in The Vault. The plot is so thin it's transparent, the solution to the mystery is completely contrived and based on a series of improbable coincidences, there is absolutely no credibility in regard to police work and there are huge holes in the plot. Both the author and the editor definitely failed on this one - it's not even carefully proofread. The book itself should have been left in some vault and cemented over.

Much of Rendell's greatest work occurred in the 1970s and 1980s. Her later books, while still very good, are not always nearly as well-plotted or as suspenseful as her early ones. One book in the latter part of her career that stood out for me was "A Sight for Sore Eyes" so I eagerly anticipated the release of this "sequel."

This book doesn't disappoint. The characterization is excellent and the plot unfolds evenly -- almost in the genre of a classic parlor mystery -- without all the sort of ridiculously over-the-top tension that has become common for many recent crime novels. Moreover, it was an interesting work to read as an intellectual exercise as, having read the earlier book, a reader knows how most of the crime unfolded years ago before the police today do. (Frankly, even if one hasn't read the earlier book, this work does well as a standalone).

It is a testament to Rendell's inventiveness as a writer that with this work she has created two worlds that become one with Inspector Wexford linking the two together. Regardless of whether one loves or hates her work, no one can say Rendell has slowed down or has stopped taking risks.

Well into her nineties, Rendell shows no decline in her powers although this book is shorter than some of her multicharactered tours deforce of later years. But this isa Wexford novel so that's as it should be. Sure, longtime fans will spot some clues such as an obvious whodunit, but not the why for a while. and perhaps the characters are sometimes a bit underdrawn or neglected (Sheila) and Sylvia don't come off so well), but that is a minor quibble. What I noticed especially was an elegaic quality even more so than Rendell's nostalgia for a vanishedcountryside, a buried London and its villages. When she writes about Dick Whittington turning on the hill to see a last glimpse of London's streets paved with gold, I wonder if Rendell herself is saying ggodbye to that rich past and to her own in the perssona of Wexford as he visits the remains of lost and buried landmarks... But Rendell has written of these things before so perhaps I'm projecting. still, there is something poignant in this particular examples of farewell. But there is also much that is fresh and funny and insightful, just as Rendell has always been. if ,this is her last book, I will turn like dick Whittington to look back at her long career for a glimpse of those pages paved with so much gold. (Sorry for the typos; this is being written on a Kindle and i don't know a way to go back and correct without deleting the whole thing.)

When I picked up The Vault, it was as if I were welcoming back an old friend. I didn't realize how much I had missed Chief Inspector Wexford. Although it has been a few years since I last read one of Rendell's Wexford series, I readily fell back into the lives of Wexford and his family with whom I have aged over the years.

Although The Vault is presented as a sequel to A Sight For Sore Eyes, which I read several years ago, I didn't go back and revisit the earlier novel until I was about halfway through the new one. Once I did, I had a completely different perspective on the sequel. I went from sharing the revelations along with Wexford, who, after all, wasn't involved in the earlier events, to reading with more knowledge than he had about the grisly past events and identity of characters. That additional knowledge made it a lot easier to put together the pieces. I found myself admiring Rendell's skills, as I realized that she had written two books in one - it is almost an entirely different book if read without knowledge of the earlier story, but it stands on its own admirably.

I enjoyed that Wexford, despite his retirement and bewilderment at finding himself a mere civilian, remained true to his roots. His relationship with Dora, his wife, has developed with depth and realism, and I felt for them as they struggled to find their bearings in this new stage of life. There is a subplot about Wexford's daughter, Sylvia, which did not ring as true. The messy business that Sylvia becomes involved with seemed too neatly wrapped up - without giving away anything, it seemed to me that she ought to have been the subject of more thorough scrutiny. I also did not find that this subplot was fully developed or concluded.

Rendell seemed to take pains to point out how the world has changed around Wexford, but after a while, I found the continual references to new technology, new shops, the sprawl of London that developed over many years and a new generation of police to be a bit heavy-handed, as if Rendell wanted constantly to remind the reader that this was no cozy village tale. Nevertheless, I was thrilled to visit with Inspector Wexford and hope that he will return again soon.

If Ruth Rendell's fictional creation, Reg Wexford, aged as rapidly on the page as in 'reality', he'd a centenarian, or dead of old age by now. Happily for fans of this long-running series (which made its debut waaay back in the 1960s) I figure every Wexford year is 5 years of our time, so despite repeated rumors that Rendell will relinquish this series to focus on other projects, readers can hope for Wexford's return.

In this outing, however, we see a different Reg Wexford. He is now retired, and still trying to adjust to this new reality of life; living most of the time in his daughter's carriage house in a swish part of London with his wife, and spending his hours prowling the city's nooks and crannies. So when four bodies are found buried in a former coal hole, under a patio, he's on hand to serve as an unofficial investigator for the detectives in charge of the investigation in the way he once was. And that ambivalent role -- while it torments Wexford, who mourns the day when the Poirots and Peter Wimseys of the world commanded respect from the authorities -- makes this mystery feel more fresh for readers who might have become weary following Wexford around his Kingsmarkham home.

The plot itself is nicely tangled, even if it takes a while for the suspense to mount and even though the story itself isn't really a thriller or psychological drama of the kind that Rendell also pens. Even if Rendell isn't spending as much time as she used to on her Wexford novels, crafting great writing, they are still intriguing as psychological character studies and -- in this case -- a study of a time and place. I enjoyed this as much for the insights into the way London and its inhabitants are changing and the people that Wexford encounters, such as the busybody arrogant former South African woman who looks down her nose at the hired help, or the beleagured born-again detective whom he is assisting.

Recommended primarily to fans of the series; if you're in love with Rendell's other books, such as those published under her nom de plume of Barbara Vine, be aware that these are more traditional police procedurals and unlikely to offer the same kind of chill factor.