Mystery review: Chef Maurice and the Wrath of Grapes

Chef Maurice and the Wrath of Grapes
(Chef Maurice Culinary Mysteries Book 2)
Genre
Cozy Mystery (English Village, Culinary)
File Size: 489 KB
Print Length: 168 pages
Publisher: Purple Panda Press (July 13, 2015)
ASIN: B00WET7X64



Publisher's Synopsis:

An invitation to dinner at the home of renowned wine collector Sir William Burton-Trent soon finds Chef Maurice in the middle of an all-too-real murder mystery party, when Sir William is found dead in his own wine cellar.

The guests are acting all innocent, but which one is only playing the part? The pushy Californian film director? The seductive French winemaker?

Or could it be, against all narrative decency, the butler who did it?

With the help of food critic friend Arthur Wordington-Smythe, a large kipper sandwich, and the newly formed Cochon Rouge Wine Appreciation Society, Chef Maurice must get to the bottom of matters before events turn decidedly sour…

As you can see, this review is part of a book tour. That means I got the book for free, but the review opinions remain my own.

My Review:

Chef Maurice and the Wrath of Grapes, in addition to making a nice literary jest in the title, was an engaging read. I found the characters well-written, though I admit to liking the minor characters (Patrick, Alf, and Lucy) best. Maurice himself is a bit over the top, and Arthur is enigmatic. Every character has flaws and virtues, and even those that seem to be types prove themselves to be a bit deeper.

I might have liked the murder victim a bit too much for comfort, but the author did manage to bring off the killing before I became too attached. The murder (victim, scene and all) is well within the bounds of the cozy mystery. The killer is maybe a bit too easy to pick out, (I guess this could be a spoiler, so jump to the next paragraph if you are worried) as the least likeable character (in my opinion. There may be room for debate). Though on reflection, quite a few of the possible suspects are a bit on the unlikeable side.

The plot/mystery is moderately complex, with some aspects fairly opaque to those (like me) not at all into wine, though the oenophilic elements are presented well. Though I suspected who and even how (in a general sense) from early on, it was beyond me to work out why or the details.

Finally, there is a nice touch of slightly comic romance worked into the subplot with the minor characters, complete with it's own minor mystery. All elements came together well, to make for a book I zipped through with pleasure, though it doesn't have a lot of substance. Although I did spot a few minor editing/proofing issues, I had a pre-publication copy, so I will trust they get picked up in the final proofing.

Recommendation:
A nice addition to the British-country-house cozy genre, of the light variety (what around my house we call "brain candy," and that's no insult!) (it occurs to me that should be a wine pun, except I don't know wines well enough to make the joke). If that's your thing, go for it! Bonus if you are exceedingly fond of good food and wine.


Full Disclosure: I was given a copy of Chef Maurice and the Wrath of Grapes as part of a blog tour, and received nothing further from the writer or publisher in exchange for my honest review.  The opinions expressed are my own and those of no one else.  I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."


About The Author
J.A. Lang is a British mystery writer, and author of the Chef Maurice Mysteries series.
She lives in Oxford, England, with her husband, an excessive number of cookbooks, and a sourdough starter named Bob.
Author Links
J.A. Lang’s Website
J.A. Lang on Goodreads
J.A. Lang on Facebook



Don't just take my word for it--check out some of the other reviewers on this tour!

TOUR PARTICIPANTS
July 14 – Book Splurge – Review
July 15 – The Ninja Librarian – Review
July 16 – readalot – Review
July 17 – Shelley’s Book Case– Review
July 18 – 3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too ! – Spotlight
July 19 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – Spotlight
July 20 – Carole’s Book Corner – Review
July 21 – MysteriesEtc – Review
July 22 – LibriAmoriMiei – Review
July 23 – Frankie Bow – Spotlight
July 24 – Mochas, Mysteries and Meows – Review
July 25 – StoreyBook Reviews – Spotlight

Merry Murder! A Holiday mystery review

Since Christmas is upon us (just in case someone among my readers is living in a cave high on a mountain in the wilds of Mars, and hasn't noticed), I thought I'd review a holiday-themed cozy mystery.  I did a library search, found several from authors I have never read, and dove in, taking my chances (after a little vetting by reading the back covers).  The first I read was:


Title: The Body in the Sleigh, by Katherine Hall Page,  256 pages
Publisher: William Morrow, 2009
Source: Library  (have I mentioned how much I love my library?!  Without the free public library, I would have gone broke buying books years ago, and the house would have collapsed under their weight!)

Summary:
Faith Fairchild and her husband, the Rev. Tom Fairchild, are spending the Christmas holidays on Sanpere Island in Maine while he recovers from emergency surgery.  They are having an idyllic holiday, marred only by Faith's discovery of a dead girl in an antique sleigh, part of a holiday display at the historic society.  Another curious event is more positive, though just as mysterious: spinster Mary Bethany finds an infant in the manger when she goes to feed her goats on Christmas Eve.  A note and a bag of money make it clear the mother intends Mary to raise the child, but give no clue as to who or why.  Faith is convinced the dead girl, despite her reputation, did not OD on drugs, deliberately or otherwise, and is as determined to find out who killed her and why as she is to find out who left the baby--and make sure Mary really gets to keep him.

Review:
I was a little surprised at the mix of decidedly cozy elements in this book with a certain grim grittiness.  One thing is certain: Page doesn't want to let us think that even idyllic retreats from the world are truly free of trouble and evil.  The story is tight, fairly exciting, with characters (primarily the Fairchild family) that you quickly come to care about.  Faith herself and (surprisingly) Mary Bethany, are the only characters I saw as fully realized, however.  Page also surprised me by using extensive flashbacks to explain backstory, and in so doing left the reader knowing more than  the sleuth through much of the book (though she doesn't exactly tell whodunnit or why, the direction is pretty obvious from midway through the book).  I found the structure a little off-putting (though I didn't have any tendency to put the book down and walk away, so I guess it worked okay!), and I was definitely expecting something a little lighter.  Page falls into the cozy genre on the whole, but definitely doesn't use humor to get there.  My take: worth reading, and a series worth further exploration.

Disclaimer: I checked The Body in the Sleigh out from my local public library, and received nothing from the publisher or author in exchange for my honest review.  The opinions expressed herein are my own and those of no one else. 

###

 Very last day for the #MGBookElves "Twelve Authors of Christmas" giveaway!

Mystery Monday: Death of a Peer by Ngaio Marsh

A review of a far-from-new murder mystery by one of the greats.

Death of a Peer, by Ngaio Marsh.  303 pages, paperback.
Originally published by Little, Brown & Co. in 1940
I sourced my copy from the local library.

Summary:
An early entry in Marsh's impressive collection of mysteries featuring Roderick Alleyn, of Scotland Yard, the book begins with a prelude set in New Zealand.  We are introduced to the central characters (exclusive of Alleyn), Roberta Grey and the Lamprey family.  She a local NZ kid, they a modestly noble family out from England to await a better turn in their finances.  Fast forward ten years, and a 20-ish Roberta arrives in England to live with an aunt, but instead goes to the Lamprey's in time to be there when their wealthy kinsman the Marquis of Wutherwood is murdered in their home.  Enter Alleyn, to solve this classic locked-door mystery.

Review:
Marsh is definitely not a modern writer (in the lower-case sense of "modern," i.e. writing now).  The style of the book is somewhat formal, and the story is more of an exercise in the use of the "little grey cells" (to borrow from her contemporary) than an exciting adventure.  But if the careful tracing of the alibis and effort to spot the holes before Alleyn does is your kind of game, it's very well done.

I also found it interesting that the story is much more about Roberta Grey and the Lampreys than it is about the author's famous detective.  We spend a great deal more time inside Roberta's head than Alleyn's, and in fact care more about her outcome.  This is good and bad--good, because she does it well and I found myself caring about these people, but bad because it reduces the possible outcomes--you are pretty confident that the chap she falls in love with will not be the guilty party (not from this era, or this genre.  In other books, I might have been less confident).  That may, in fact, be the biggest weakness in this well-assembled puzzle.

I think that some of Ngaio Marsh's later books are more appealing today.  But this is well-written and the mystery is worked out well, with characters we care about enough to want it solved.

Full Disclosure: I borrowed this copy of Death of a Peer from the library, and received nothing whatsoever from the author or publisher in exchange for my honest review.  The opinions expressed in this review are my own and no one else's.

Flash Fiction Friday: The Dead Man’s Revenge

 Time for another Flash Fiction Challenge from Chuck.  This week it involved the random selection (which I had to tweak a bit, as some selections were inappropriate for me) of two sub-genres and two elements of the story.  I got "occult detective" and "picaresque," which I didn't do super well, and the two elements were a dead enemy's revenge and a pool of blood.  So, borrowing a character and a world from my WIP, I came up with. . .

The Dead Man’s Revenge

Bovrell the Bold looked furtively about him before ducking through the low doorway next to the sign, “Maya Kinten, things discovered.”  He’d heard about this woman who had the power to find just about anything.  He wanted something found, and couldn’t admit to just anyone that he’d lost it.

He blinked a moment in the dim interior.  All interiors in Kargor were dim, but this one seemed to have an extra layer of opacity.  His chain mail clinked as he moved away from the door, just in case, and a voice said,

“You have come for my services, Bovrell the Bold?”  The voice was not, as he’d expected, old and cracked.  His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and saw that the woman behind the table was heavily veiled, in the accepted tradition of those who practiced the mystical arts.  His impression, however, was that she was neither young nor old.  Ageless?  He cleared his throat.

“I have lost some things, and need help in finding them.”

“I see.  They are important to you?”

“Yes, very.”

Maya Kinten studied her hands.  He’d expected she would gaze into a crystal, or a mirror, or something, but she looked up and said, “That is only somewhat true.”

Bovrell felt a chill.  He didn’t really believe in the powers of the occult seekers of Kargor, even if he had come looking for one.  But this woman. . . he pushed his doubts aside.

“I have lost my apprentice, and a Fair Maiden I rescued.  You know the rules.”

She gazed unblinkingly at him this time, before answering.  “I know the rules.  You have no sorrow for the loss of the apprentice.  You left him behind to pay your bills with his own sweat.  You regret the princess, but I sense you also left her intentionally.”

“Perhaps, but I need them back now.”  Bovrell tried his most winning smile on the woman.  It worked on all the young women.  All except maybe that pesky girl in Carthor, but she wasn’t a princess anyway.  The one he’d lost was in Duria, and she’d been pretty and compliant and he’d been very sorry to have to leave in such a hurry.

The Seeker appeared unmoved by the winning smile.  Bovrell shifted position, the better to display his well-muscled torso, and tried again.  “I have sought you, Mistress Kinten, because I have been told that you are the best.  I can pay you well.”  He crossed his fingers behind his back, since he had, as usual, less than enough money for his next meal.  The life of a roving Hero can be hard.  Unless he keeps his hold on the princesses, and Bovrell had a surprisingly poor record there.

Now the woman took up a mirror, and studied it as though seeing more than her veil in its depths.  Bovrell hated seeing any woman covered up, unless she was old and ugly.  Already he itched for his next quest—or conquest.

Maya Kinten stiffened, and bent to look more closely at the mirror.  “So much blood,” she murmured.

Bovrell shifted uneasily.  He’d prefer to just find the girl and get on his way, without raking up uncomfortable bits of his history.

She spoke again.  “You must tell me of the pool of blood, and the one who lies in it.”  Her voice carried less of mystical seduction and more of command, and he felt himself unable to refuse.

“He held the princess against her will in a grim, dark castle.  I am a Hero.  I had to kill him, and rescue her.  That is all.  I was the better swordsman.”

She gave him a look so knowing, what he could see of the eyes over the veil, that he felt certain she knew the truth.  That he had hidden in the curtains and tripped the man while he was carrying a tray of kitchen knives back from the smith who had just sharpened them.  The man had fallen, and cut his own throat in the falling.  “I slew him and freed the princess, and returned her to her own people.”

“And then?” Maya Kinten prompted gently.

“And then,” Bovrell found himself saying, “ill luck began to dog my footsteps.  I was forced to ride from village to village, ever seeking something I could not name.  I visited the tiniest of Durian villages, and found myself accepting an apprentice.  He was the most useless of lads, and I do not deny that I left him when I could bear it no longer.”

“And the princess?  You left her even sooner.”

“I returned her to her people.”

“You have left so much unsaid.”

“I left her with her people,” he found himself saying, “and they threatened to kill me.  They said she had been given rightfully to the man in the grim castle, and that my action had brought a curse upon them and me.”

“And now,” said Maya Kinten, “you wish to find her and them, and see what must be done to remove the curse.”

“I haven’t been able to find a single princess since leaving Loria!  And every one I ever did find turned out to have been promised in marriage to another, thus overriding the rule of The Hero’s Guide to Battles, Rescues, and the Slaying of Monsters that the Hero shall marry the princess he rescues.”

The woman pushed aside her veils, and Bovrell saw that she was the princess he had rescued long ago, at the beginning of his troubles.

“You!” he exclaimed.

“Yes.  I am the princess you ‘rescued’ by slaying my lover.  I am the one who has made certain that you will never again have success in your endeavors.”

He felt himself frozen to the spot.  “And now you will slay me as the dead man’s revenge?” he managed to croak.

“Oh, no,” she smiled.  “I shall leave you to continue as you have begun.  You shall spend the rest of your life as a Hero, riding gallantly about, but never quite succeeding.  Oh,” she added as an afterthought, “and you might want to know that your hopeless apprentice has done well for himself.  Quite well,” she repeated with a smile that stabbed Bovrell’s icy heart.

The Writing Exercise Challenge

So, Karen Einsel of karensdifferentcorners issued a writing-exercise challenge to write a story or scene using only dialogue or only description (no dialogue).  I'm not sure which I'm better at, but it seems to me that it's harder to get the whole picture with dialogue alone.  It would be pretty easy to fall into an unreal descriptive narrative that way: "Oh, look, John, we turned the corner and now there is a fire truck and a building is on fire!"  "Why, yes, and I think I just saw something out of the corner of my eye.  It had a black cape and might have been something like Batman!"

Okay, I exaggerate.  And some scenes are perhaps best rendered in pure dialogue, though I'm not sure about that.  Here are the rules of  
 “The Writing Exercise Challenge”
Mention the person or blog that tagged you   (That would be Karen).
Write a short story or scene using
a. Dialogue only
b. Description only
c. Both combined
They can be as long or short as you like, as long as you get the point across to your readers.
 Now tag 3 other people or ask for participants 
And if you think there should be additional rules post a comment!
Want to challenge yourself further? Try writing outside of your genre. If you write romance, try your hand at horror. Or if you are a mystery writer, try writing a steamy romantic scene. Hey even mysteries have romance sometimes. 

So, mostly because this is what first popped into my mind, I went SF. 

"Trouble in Space"

A.  Dialogue only
    "Xark!  The murgle thrusters on engine unit 17-A aren't working.  Someone has to go out and clear them."
    "Well, it's your turn, Gerbo.  I did the last EVA."
    "If you'd made sure the idiots at that service station on Jinx had installed the filters, we wouldn't have this problem."
    "Me?  Since when is it my job to tell the technicians how to do their job?  You picked the station, so I assumed they were registered and competent.  You and your thrust-stingy ways.  You clean the murgle thrusters."
    "Maybe we can send Zerdog.  What about it, boy?"
    "Ourf!"
    "He says no.  Besides, he's a space dog.  He doesn't have opposable thumbs.  Suit up, loser."
    "I hate going EVA. . . . Hand me my tether, will you?  Thanks."
    "You about ready?"
    "Yeah.  Run the check."
    ". . . Okay.  All systems sealed and running.  Radio check?"
    "Loud and clear."
    "Enter the airlock."
    "Airlock sealed."
    "Cycling."
    "Check. . . Wait!  I don't see my tether!  Where the space is my tether!?"
    "Oh, I got it all right.  See?  Oh, I forgot, you can't see me. You're tumbling loose in space.  Sayonara, loser!  I'm sick of your whining, and I don't have to listen any more!"
    "Blast you, Xark!  You damned idiot!  You've killed me, and you've killed yourself.  Without those murgle thrusters, you'll never reach We Made It.  You can die slowly in there and let Zerdog eat you.  At least I can die quickly.  When I finish laughing at your stupidity!  Hahahahaha!"
    "Haha, Gerbo!  You are the idiot.  Did you really think I'd toss you aside if the murgle thrusters weren't working?  It was a false report!  Just an excuse to get you the space out of here."
    "Curse you to the depths of a black hole, Xerk!  May your EVA suit crack and your powersource implode!"
    "That's about as nasty a curse as a spacer can make, but it won't do you any good.  I'm hitting the power thrust drive now.  Goodbye!"
    "Wait! Don't--"
    "Don't beg, Gerbo.  It's undignified.  Here I go."
    "Don't--holy meteor shower!  The thrusters are--"
    "Oh, n--!"
    "Hahahaha!  I told you you'd. . . no!  Zerdo . . . ."


B.  Description only (no dialogue)

     Xerk and Gerbo glared at each other across the control room of the tiny two-man space pod.  After months in space, each could scarcely bear the sight of the other's face.  Now the murgle thrusters were blocked, and they had argued themselves into silence, first over whose fault it was that the last maintenance had been so poorly done, and then over who had to make the dangerous and terrifying trip EVA to clear them manually.
    Gerbo's final appeal had been to their pet spacedog, Zerdog, and that having failed, he knew he had truly lost.  Well, perhaps a little time alone would be a pleasant change, however much he hated EVA as a general rule.  Slowly, carefully, he began suiting up.
    Xerk ran the suit check in near-silence.  The two had been together for so long they didn't need words, even when they hated the sight of each other.  Maybe especially then.
   Only as the airlock cycled did Gerbo realize that Xerk had murdered him.  The tether that prevented his drifting off forever into the vacuum of space was attached at only one end.  He blew out the airlock door on a puff of air, already tumbling away from the pod.  His suit thrusters, meant for tiny adjustments, not for real travel, slowed the tumble, but couldn't bring him back to the ship.  
     Xerk still had nothing to say, but Gerbo could see him though the video suit monitor, laughing as he reached for the controls.  
    Gerbo could see something else.  He laughed too, as the power surge hit the fully blocked murgle thrusters.  Xerk must've forgotten them when he hit full power.  Maybe he'd thought he'd managed a false "blocked thruster" signal.  But the explosion that vaporized the pod was no fake.
    Gerbo had time for a passing regret for Zerdog in the instant before the debris hit him, shredding his suit. 

C.  Both.  What I'd call normal writing :)

      After months at space, and despite their recent stop at Jynx for maintenance, Xerk and Gerbo had reached the point where they could scarcely bear to be in the same space pod.  With another six months to go, things had gotten ugly.
     "Those idiots at Jynx must not have installed the filters on the murgle thrusters.  They're clogged.  I told you we should have found a decent mechanic, not the cheapest shop in the galaxy."  Gerbo glared at Xerk.  This was all his fault.
     "You should have checked their work.  You'll have to go out and fix it.  I did the last EVA."
     Gerbo argued the point, not really expecting to win.  But he had to do it.  If Xerk suspected that Gerbo was desperate enough for some time to himself that he'd even look forward to an EVA, things would only get worse.  He even asked Zerdog if he'd do it.  Their canine companion barked, drooled,  and went back to sleep under the control panel.
     "Fine.  I'll do it."  Gerbo began to suit up, not allowing his annoyance with pretty much everything Xerk did or said to interfere with his careful adherence to suit protocols.  
    "Pass me my tether?" was the only thing he said until he finished.  Then he asked Xerk to run the suit check.
     His fellow Spacer, likewise taciturn but thorough, tested every joint and seal, and Gerbo put on his helmet.
     "Radio check?"
     "Loud and clear."
     "Tether?"
     "Check.  Enter the airlock."
     Gerbo pushed himself off the wall and drifted to the airlock.  Xerk followed to double-check the door, then,
     "Cycling."
     Only when he blew out the outer door did Gerbo realize that, though he had attached the free end of his tether to the tether-guard, Xerk had apparently failed to attach the other end to his suit.  No.  He'd deliberately detached it.  As Gerbo tumbled away from the pod, desperately trying to aim himself back to the ship with the woefully inadequate maneuvering thrusters on his suit, he heard Xerk laughing through the helmet radio.
     "Curse you to the depths of a black hole, Xerk!  May your EVA suit crack and your powersource implode!"
     "That's about the nastiest curse a Spacer can make, Gerbo, but it won't save your hide.  I'm hitting the power thrust and you won't be annoying me any more with your stupid habits."
     "But the murgle thrusters are clogged.  You can't go anywhere unless you help me back so I can clear them."
     Xerk laughed harder.  "You fool.  That was a false signal.  I just needed to get you EVA."
     Burning with rage, and needing to see it to believe it, Gerbo brought himself to where he could at least see the thrusters he'd been meant to clear.  He lined up behind the pod and took a look at Xerk's lie.  Then he looked again, and yelled. "Wait!  Don't. . . "
     "Don't beg, loser.  Sayonara!"
     Xerk gave Gerbo no chance to tell him that his false signal had been all too real.
     When the power surge hit the clogged murgle thrusters, the entire spacepod exploded.
    "Sorry I couldn't save you, Zerdog," Gerbo managed to say before the debris scatter shredded his suit. 
     With no air, you cannot scream.


So there you have it.  That was kind of fun.  And I'll tag any of my followers who want to give it a shot!

Book Review: Death Without Company

Death Without Company, by Craig Johnson, is the second book in his series featuring Sheriff Walt Longmire of Absaroka County, Wyoming.

First, I have to say that there seems to be a whole genre of mysteries featuring aging sheriffs in podunk places.  Walt Longmire. Bill Gastner.  Dan Rhodes.  I also have to say that I love them, though you wouldn't think that overweight, over-the-hill and often troubled old guys would make very appealing heroes.  And yet. . . they do.

Walt Longmire is no exception.  Death Without Company is the second Craig Johnson book I've read, and the series shows strong promise (I realize that I'm rather behind, and Johnson's written a whole lot more.  But I haven't read them yet).  In this book, the widowed Longmire has begun getting his life together a little more, but since the story takes up only weeks after the first (The Cold Dish) leaves off, he is definitely still working on it.

That feature of timing leads me to the first caveat: you really need to read these in order.  If it hadn't been several months since I read Cold Dish, I'd review it first, too.  But read them in order or there will be an awful lot of references and assumptions you won't get.  For some people, that's a flaw--each book should stand on its own.  I do think that these books stand on their own--but it's a close thing.  I don't really have a problem with that, since I like to read everything in order anyway.  I do also appreciate that the approach lets the author get on with the story without explaining a whole lot of stuff.

Absaroka County, Wyoming is, according to the novel, the least populated county in the US.  This makes for a fairly closed set of characters, in a sense the Western version of the English village.  Longmire's main sidekick is Henry Standing Bear, his connection to the local Native American population, pretty well completing the round of inter-connections.  About the only outsiders in the area seem to be the members of the Sheriff's department. 

When a retired sheriff insists that the death of a neighbor in the local old folks' home is not a natural death, the everyone-is-related-to-everyone-else nature of the community leads in and out of the Basque community, the local tribes, and the old sheriff's past.  Longmire has to follow the tracks, even when they lead where he'd rather not go.  In the process, he gets the snot beat out of him again (I have to wonder about the toughness factor of all these mystery heroes of all ages and genders, because they don't seem to be affected by all the beatings quite the way you and I would), and gets in some more serious flirting with various other characters.

To me, that last is the least believable aspect of the books.  Because Walt Longmire is pretty messed up, he's no beauty, not that young (not yet retirement age, but getting close), and needs to work out.  Yet in two books at least 3 women have demonstrated a significant attraction to him.  What's with that?

Aside from that bit of not-quite-reality, the story is convincing, the mystery well-developed and neither too obvious nor revealed in the end by a bit of divine inspiration or other annoying source of information we could never have.  The writing is strong and clear.  If Johnson isn't yet up to the standards of a Hillerman, he appears to have made a strong start in that direction.