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In The Punishment She Deserves, Lynley and Havers conduct a nightmarish Rubik’s cube of an investigation of an investigation of the suicide of a deacon in police custody. George’s protagonists, Inspector Thomas Lynley, the eighth Earl of Asherton, and spiky Detective Sergeant Barbara Havers, an overweight working-class woman who lives on chips and cigarettes, work together brilliantly, despite divisive class differences (which are stressed). Her pairing of detectives is rooted in the Golden Age tradition of upper-class sleuths with their butlers or batsmen, or, in its later 20th-century incarnation, police officers of different ranks like Reginald HIll’s fat, rude Detective Superintendent Andrew Dalziel and university-educated Sergeant Peter Pasco. Writing from Washington state, she sets her page-turners in the UK, and the latest, The Punishment She Deserves, is a brilliant, twisty psychological novel. Elizabeth George may be the greatest American mystery writer today, and she is by far the most fervent Anglophile. And so we stayed indoors and read pop lit. When did it became a military holiday?īut it was too hot to travel: 100 degrees. Memorial Day has long been the American Day of the Dead, without the tacky plastic skeletons. Then we would decorate my mother’s grave. We planned to picnic at Lake McBride–without wine, despite Horace’s urgings (see yesterday’s post). We planned to go to Iowa City on Memorial Day. I shall keep my fingers crossed and hope they continue to use correct grammar (they’ve had some wobbly pronouns) and publish brilliant articles. We want those readers, too.”Ībell is hiring more women writers and writers of color. But there are many others out there - they do all sorts of things professionally - who remember a time, perhaps in college, when they fed their minds and stretched themselves. Stig told Garner, “We want to keep our core audience. Stig who?”Ī former editor of the Sun, which is apparently a tabloid, Abell does have literary qualifications: he earned a double first in English from Cambridge and had written reviews for the TLS, the Spectator, and other newspapers. Garner writes, “When Stig Abell was named the editor of the venerable Times Literary Supplement, or TLS, two years ago, the baffled reaction among book people was nearly audible. Last week the critic Dwight Garner at the New York Times explored the TLS culture in an entertaining profile of Stig Abell, “A Scrappy Makeover for a Tweedy Literary Fixture.” Abell, 38, is the editor, a Shakespeare enthusiast, and author of a new book, How Britain Really Works: Understanding the Ideas and Institutions of a Nation, which has just been published in the UK. I subscribe to the TLS for three reasons: (a) the reviews of books on classics, (b) reviews of and features about women’s literature, and (c) the entertaining literary column, “N.B.”, by J.C. Yes, I love the worlds of Brookner and Johnson, but I understand that the TLS is nothing like that. They are all, in short, living in the mid-to-late 20th century. The poorly-paid critics and editors smoke hand-rolled cigarettes as they type on old-fashioned typewriters, wearing twin sets, buns, and ballet shoes, like Anita Brookner’s spinsters, or chatting pretentiously like the poet Dorothy Merlin and her savvy bookseller husband Cosmo in Pamela Hansford Johnson’s satiric novel, Cork Street, Next to the Hatter. (We all are.) As a cranky, working-class, state-university-educated feminist, I have constructed a fantasy world of the TLS. Why do I read the TLS? Who is its ideal reader? Is she a professor emerita with a Proust monomania, or an Eastern European immigrant barista who haunts Bloomsbury bookshops?