Wings of Fire by Charles Todd: A review

Inspector Ian Rutledge of Scotland Yard is a psychological mess. He fought in the trenches of France in World War I and was grievously injured. Now physically recovered (more or less), he has returned to work and has already managed to crack one difficult case in A Test of Wills.

Before the war, Rutledge was a rising star at the Yard and that engendered envy from some of his cohorts and from his superior, Bowles. Bowles takes every opportunity to send the Inspector on out-of-town cases. He particularly wants to get him out of town now because of a recent Ripper-style killing spree in London and the likelihood that the detective who cracks the case will become a celebrity. Bowles is determined that it won't be Rutledge.

His chance comes when three members of an influential family in a small Cornwall village die within a short span of time. Two are ruled suicides and one an accident. But a member of the family has her doubts and she prevails upon the Home Office to send someone from Scotland Yard to investigate. Guess who Bowles chooses?

In the village, Rutledge learns that one of the dead is "O.A. Manning," nom de plume of a reclusive writer whose poetry helped to sustain him during the war. He is surprised to learn that the poet was a woman. She and her brother, who lived with her, are the suicides. Another brother, who had lost part of his foot in the war, fell down the stairs while the family was clearing out the house. His death was the accident.

Rutledge is a highly intuitive investigator and he intuits almost immediately that there are many family secrets here and that there is more to these deaths than the inquests determined, but will he ever be able to prove it? Will he ever be able to dig up long-hidden secrets and reveal the truth, not just about these three deaths but several others that have haunted the family over the years?

One of the more interesting aspects of these Rutledge mysteries is his own psychological state. He carries with him the memory and the voice of a young Scot named Hamish whom he was forced to have executed on the battlefield. Hamish now haunts his every waking hour. He serves as something of a voice of conscience to the Inspector. It is a tormenting voice that forces Rutledge to face truths that he would perhaps rather not face.

Rutledge is further haunted by the memory of the fiancee who deserted him after he came home from the war a changed man. She was the love of his life - at least he thought she was - and that love was another thing which kept him going and helped him face his wounds and recover. But the fiancee proved lacking in courage and in love and she could not face a life with a wounded man who was not the perfect specimen she had sent off to battle. Still, Rutledge finds it hard to get her out of his heart and out of his mind. As I said, he's a mess.

The mother and son writing team that writes under the name "Charles Todd" has created an interesting and complicated character in Ian Rutledge. This is the second book in their series featuring him and the reader feels that there are depths still to be explored in the several books that follow this one.

Incidentally, I can't help drawing comparisons between this series and Jacqueline Winspear's "Maisie Dobbs" series. They take place in the same time frame and place and explore some of the same issues - the state of English society after the war and the psychological damage done both to those who fought the war and those who waited on the home front. They are both well-done series and worth reading for anyone interested in that period or anyone interested in the history of understanding and treatment of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or shell shock as the post-World War I society knew it.

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

Search This Blog