Maisie Dobbs by Jacqueline Winspear: A review

Isabel Dalhousie, meet Maisie Dobbs. That's what I was thinking as I delved into this first book of Jacqueline Winspear's popular series. The character of Maisie at first reminded me a great deal of Isabel. Both are philosophers and psychologists, and are deeply intuitive people who rely on those intuitions to understand and solve mysteries. As I got further into the book, though, I found significant differences. For one thing, I liked Maisie a lot, whereas I often find Isabel irritating and exasperating in the extreme with her constant agonizing over the moral issues of everything. ("Shall I wear the pink blouse or the white blouse today? Which is the moral choice? What would David Hume do?") Maisie is a more down-to-earth, practical sort of person who lives in the real world of England ten years after the Great War and has real problems.

I suppose one of the things which makes Maisie a more sympathetic character for me is the fact that she comes from the working class. Her father was a costermonger and when her mother died just as she was entering her teenage years, she went into domestic service. Isabel Dalhousie, on the other hand, is very, very rich and never had to struggle for a place in the world. But, enough! It's unfair of me to compare the two. I enjoy them both. It's just that I find it easier to identify with Maisie.

Maisie had a bit of luck with the family with whom she was placed as a servant. Lady Rowan Compton was a suffragette and a feminist who wanted to improve the world. She recognized when she caught Maisie reading philosophy books in the family library that this was a special girl, one that she might be able to help to achieve something in the world. She sponsored her, found a tutor for her and saw to her education. Then along came the First World War and everything was put on hold.

Winspear has structured her book in three parts. The first part begins in 1929 as Maisie is launching her career as a psychologist and confidential investigator. We follow her first case which turns out to be a domestic mystery - a man suspects his wife of cheating on him. As Maisie gets into the case, she finds it much more complicated than it would have seemed at first glance. Following one line of inquiry leads to another. And another. And another.

The second part of the book gives us Maisie's backstory. We return to a time before the war and just after the death of her mother and we go with her as she enters domestic service and begins to forge new relationships and learn new things. We follow this story up until the beginning of the war and the mobilizing of the country. A traumatic event in Maisie's life forces her to reevaluate her position and she decides to volunteer as a nurse. She receives her training and is sent to France and meets her first love.

The final part of the book returns to 1929. Maisie has followed her case down all its pathways and has solved the original mystery but that has led her to further conundrums. She discovers a farm that has been set up as a "retreat" for badly injured and damaged veterans of the recent war. It sounds like a noble enterprise, but Maisie's worrisome intuition tells her something is not quite right here and that she must probe further.

This book is ostensibly a mystery but it could just as easily be classified as a historical novel. Indeed, the book reminded me somewhat - and in a good way - of Upstairs, Downstairs and Downton Abbey as it is set in much the same historical period and the relationships of the characters are somewhat similar. I read that the book was very well-received by critics when it came out in 2003. It was nominated for and received several awards including the 2003 Agatha Christie Award for Best First Novel. The New York Times named it as one of its "notable books of 2003." I can only add my voice in agreement to these assessments. This is a fine first novel, well-written with a wealth of historical detail, and with sympathetic characters whom one wants to get to know better. I'm glad there are several more books in the series and I look forward to reading them.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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