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feather_ghyll) wrote2020-12-27 03:44 pm
feather_ghyll) wrote2020-12-27 03:44 pm
REVIEW: Dark Danger
Dark Danger: Malcolm Saville, Girls Gone By 2018
The third Marston Baines book was probably my least favourite of this series so far.
I had forgotten Patrick Cartwright, Simon’s other friend from Oxford, who didn’t appear in ‘The Purple Valley’ but was introduced in ‘Three Towers in Tuscany’, so I thought the first few chapters were their own thing, and that Baines or someone else would enter proceedings later, which they do, thanks to a mighty coincidence. Anyhow, Patrick, studying for a science degree, has got a summer job in Venice, tutoring Pietro Brindisi. Patrick’s employer, Count Brindisi, has sent his children to English boarding schools and is eager for Pietro to follow in his footseps as a chemist (he never considered this for his older child, Francesca.)
Patrick arrives at Venice, where he is met by Pietro and taken to the family palazzo by the Grand Canal. On the way there, they come across a violent scene that could have happened centuries ago, but because Pietro recognises one of the participants, he insists on silence. Patrick learns the Brindisis are living under a shadow, the Count is worried about something to do with his work, and both he and his son are concerned about Francesca, who has been keeping them at bay, is spending a lot of time with an older man the Count disapproves of and shows various sides of her personality very fast to Patrick. Patrick is piqued because obviously a beautiful girl should be nice to him (granted, she ought to be civil to her family’s guest/employee, but I found the male sense of entitlement around Francesca obnoxious.) It turns out that she is yet another damsel in distress in this series, under an evil influence.
Meanwhile, Marston Baines has been sent to interview a refugee who is scared for his life, staying under the care of a vicar in the Cotswolds. Baines is somewhat unprofessional about this job, for he should have reported the disclosure about the scientist via the phone and should certainly have been more paranoid about being watched, so I wasn’t particularly sympathetic towards him when he woke up concussed in the middle of nowhere, while the man he was meant to be interviewing was dead, as he had feared. Baines’s boss would have done better to send the competent young secretary, rather than an underbriefed middle-aged agent who thought this job was beneath him.
In his possession while he was unconscious, Baines had a letter from nephew Simon, talking about gong to Venice to see his mate Patrick, who’d been employed by a Venetian scientist…
What had happened to his uncle and a worrying letter from Patrick send Simon to Venice where, due to bad timing and everyone’s tendency to rush off thoughtlessly, matters have deteriorated. The Count is missing in Rome; Francesca, having renounced Satanism, is desperate to find her father; Patrick, who is falling for her (based on the few hours where she’s been nice to him, and, of course, she is very, very beautiful) has promised to look out for her; Pietro is at the end of his tether; and Simon isn’t sure what to think…
I had some sympathy for Saville, who was clearly writing to counter the lure of the occult for his readers. How do you depict it without making it attractive? He uses words like ‘horrible’ and ‘blasphemous’ and frames it as a battle between the forces of good and evil. He contrasts Satanism with Count Brindisi’s Christian faith, in particular. I thought the most fruitful strand was showing how aligning oneself to the powers of evil took away simple acts of kindness and humanity. This was somewhat undermined by the fact that even the goodies practice deception to the baddies. Saville also unfortunately tends to default to having his heroes punch the baddies, be they renegade priests performing Black Masses or whoever, and making these Devil-worshippers, of course, be an international criminal gang (run by a mannish woman who it turns out we have met before.) The introduction suggests that Saville borrowed the plot from Fleming and Whately.
Simon is, in some ways, a peripheral figure, and is somewhat criticised for being a ‘philanderer’, though as he says, it’s usually one girl at a time, and in this book, it’s no girl at all, beyond reflexive flirting with Francesca. Romance, well, is cultivated rather than blossoms between Francesca and Patrick. Patrick may be as devoted to Francesca (never forget she’s beautiful and as brave as a decorative girl can be), as Charles is to ‘The Purple Valley’’s Kate, for he refuses to come to Italy and goes to visit her instead.
On the other hand, I thought Saville missed an obvious avenue of character exploration with Patrick, partly because of a blindspot about nationality and possibly a desire to be ecumenical – in his depiction of Catholicism, Saville is a very tolerant high Anglican. Patrick is, in fact, half-Irish, but we’re never informed which half – presumably his mother given his surname, and we’re never told if she was one of the minority of Irish Protestants, or if he was the offspring of a mixed marriage. We know very little of his background. As the Brindisis are Catholic, this ought to have come up naturally and added slightly more depth to his characterisation. There’s one reference to Patrick being proud of his Irish ancestry, there’s one line about him using his ‘Irish charm’ (which seems to involve calling Francesca ‘darling’ after knowing her for about a day and being rebuffed for some of that time. Granted, she was being cold and rude because she was under dark influences, but I can’t say I found that a potent example of his charm, myself.) But in the main, he’s referred to as an Englishman in the narrative, and even in the meeting of the committee of thirteen national representatives of the gang of baddies, Saville shows off his John Bullish tendencies, making it clear that even an English Satanist is better than an Arab one.
Anyway, I’ve read better romances in thrillers for young adults.
Saville has no time for sectarianism, all Christians, nominal or men of faith. are ranged on the side of good. Count Brindisi quotes Scripture (transposed as English, but surely that’d have been in Latin), makes the sign of the cross and prays as the gang try to wrest a dangerous scientific formula out of him by somewhat contradictory means. Well, the plot hinges on several characters being stupid and massive coincidences, and that and the sexism got on my nerves. Even the interest of the Venetian and Roman settings couldn’t make up for the book’s faults , which they might have done if I’d read it when I was younger. [Edited: 11/9/23.]
The third Marston Baines book was probably my least favourite of this series so far.
I had forgotten Patrick Cartwright, Simon’s other friend from Oxford, who didn’t appear in ‘The Purple Valley’ but was introduced in ‘Three Towers in Tuscany’, so I thought the first few chapters were their own thing, and that Baines or someone else would enter proceedings later, which they do, thanks to a mighty coincidence. Anyhow, Patrick, studying for a science degree, has got a summer job in Venice, tutoring Pietro Brindisi. Patrick’s employer, Count Brindisi, has sent his children to English boarding schools and is eager for Pietro to follow in his footseps as a chemist (he never considered this for his older child, Francesca.)
Patrick arrives at Venice, where he is met by Pietro and taken to the family palazzo by the Grand Canal. On the way there, they come across a violent scene that could have happened centuries ago, but because Pietro recognises one of the participants, he insists on silence. Patrick learns the Brindisis are living under a shadow, the Count is worried about something to do with his work, and both he and his son are concerned about Francesca, who has been keeping them at bay, is spending a lot of time with an older man the Count disapproves of and shows various sides of her personality very fast to Patrick. Patrick is piqued because obviously a beautiful girl should be nice to him (granted, she ought to be civil to her family’s guest/employee, but I found the male sense of entitlement around Francesca obnoxious.) It turns out that she is yet another damsel in distress in this series, under an evil influence.
Meanwhile, Marston Baines has been sent to interview a refugee who is scared for his life, staying under the care of a vicar in the Cotswolds. Baines is somewhat unprofessional about this job, for he should have reported the disclosure about the scientist via the phone and should certainly have been more paranoid about being watched, so I wasn’t particularly sympathetic towards him when he woke up concussed in the middle of nowhere, while the man he was meant to be interviewing was dead, as he had feared. Baines’s boss would have done better to send the competent young secretary, rather than an underbriefed middle-aged agent who thought this job was beneath him.
In his possession while he was unconscious, Baines had a letter from nephew Simon, talking about gong to Venice to see his mate Patrick, who’d been employed by a Venetian scientist…
What had happened to his uncle and a worrying letter from Patrick send Simon to Venice where, due to bad timing and everyone’s tendency to rush off thoughtlessly, matters have deteriorated. The Count is missing in Rome; Francesca, having renounced Satanism, is desperate to find her father; Patrick, who is falling for her (based on the few hours where she’s been nice to him, and, of course, she is very, very beautiful) has promised to look out for her; Pietro is at the end of his tether; and Simon isn’t sure what to think…
I had some sympathy for Saville, who was clearly writing to counter the lure of the occult for his readers. How do you depict it without making it attractive? He uses words like ‘horrible’ and ‘blasphemous’ and frames it as a battle between the forces of good and evil. He contrasts Satanism with Count Brindisi’s Christian faith, in particular. I thought the most fruitful strand was showing how aligning oneself to the powers of evil took away simple acts of kindness and humanity. This was somewhat undermined by the fact that even the goodies practice deception to the baddies. Saville also unfortunately tends to default to having his heroes punch the baddies, be they renegade priests performing Black Masses or whoever, and making these Devil-worshippers, of course, be an international criminal gang (run by a mannish woman who it turns out we have met before.) The introduction suggests that Saville borrowed the plot from Fleming and Whately.
Simon is, in some ways, a peripheral figure, and is somewhat criticised for being a ‘philanderer’, though as he says, it’s usually one girl at a time, and in this book, it’s no girl at all, beyond reflexive flirting with Francesca. Romance, well, is cultivated rather than blossoms between Francesca and Patrick. Patrick may be as devoted to Francesca (never forget she’s beautiful and as brave as a decorative girl can be), as Charles is to ‘The Purple Valley’’s Kate, for he refuses to come to Italy and goes to visit her instead.
On the other hand, I thought Saville missed an obvious avenue of character exploration with Patrick, partly because of a blindspot about nationality and possibly a desire to be ecumenical – in his depiction of Catholicism, Saville is a very tolerant high Anglican. Patrick is, in fact, half-Irish, but we’re never informed which half – presumably his mother given his surname, and we’re never told if she was one of the minority of Irish Protestants, or if he was the offspring of a mixed marriage. We know very little of his background. As the Brindisis are Catholic, this ought to have come up naturally and added slightly more depth to his characterisation. There’s one reference to Patrick being proud of his Irish ancestry, there’s one line about him using his ‘Irish charm’ (which seems to involve calling Francesca ‘darling’ after knowing her for about a day and being rebuffed for some of that time. Granted, she was being cold and rude because she was under dark influences, but I can’t say I found that a potent example of his charm, myself.) But in the main, he’s referred to as an Englishman in the narrative, and even in the meeting of the committee of thirteen national representatives of the gang of baddies, Saville shows off his John Bullish tendencies, making it clear that even an English Satanist is better than an Arab one.
Anyway, I’ve read better romances in thrillers for young adults.
Saville has no time for sectarianism, all Christians, nominal or men of faith. are ranged on the side of good. Count Brindisi quotes Scripture (transposed as English, but surely that’d have been in Latin), makes the sign of the cross and prays as the gang try to wrest a dangerous scientific formula out of him by somewhat contradictory means. Well, the plot hinges on several characters being stupid and massive coincidences, and that and the sexism got on my nerves. Even the interest of the Venetian and Roman settings couldn’t make up for the book’s faults , which they might have done if I’d read it when I was younger. [Edited: 11/9/23.]