Two different books

Reading two books right now. One for work, one for fun.

The one for work is called "Allelopathy" (for those unfamiliar: allelopathy is caused by chemicals released by sessile organisms like plants into their surrounding area. I always thought of it as a *harmful* effect, because that's the usual textbook definition, but this author also includes stimulatory effects). It's by Elroy Rice, who is usually considered one of the "greats" of Oklahoma agronomy/ecology.

I hate to say it though but I am struggling with this book. It's....not that well written. I had been wondering why I had never been encouraged to read it by any of the people (who would know) that I had talked about my work in Korean lespedeza with. Maybe it's that it's a very scattered collection of anecdotal reports from other published papers, and the organization...oy, the organization. It's not making much of an impression on the wrinkles of my brain because it jumps so rapidly from species to species. (And, I confess, I skimmed over the stuff about allelopathy affecting two crops - one is bajra, which Google tells me is a millet, and I forget the other - in India because not relevant to what I am doing). Maybe it gets better; a later chapter is on prairies so that might go down better.

The second one is one of those Golden Era mystery novels, called Thirteen Guests. This is by J. Jefferson Farjeon, whom I talked about the other day.

I'm enjoying this book so far. I just generally enjoy this class of novels. For some reason, I am very good at imagining what the interiors (and exteriors) of the houses where these tend to be set look like (maybe many years of watching the various adaptations of classic mysteries that various British production companies put out and PBS shows) and I can even imagine what some of the characters look like.

The funny thing is, I don't think I would have wanted to live in the era, or at least the milieu (upper middle class British) where these take place: too much weight put on women finding a husband before it's "too late," too many superficial niceties like having to use the right fork or dress a particular way for a particular meal, too many people with sort of ugly attitudes (there was a lot of anti-Semitism, especially among the upper classes it seems, in Edwardian Britain) who explained those attitudes away in various ways. And yet, I enjoy books set in that era.

With these one-off novels (and also, a less-familiar-to-me writer), I can't quite decide yet which of the characters to give my sympathy to. (Of course, in novels with a "known" detective, I tend to side with him or her). Right now I think I'm rooting for John Foss, who seems to be the central character. I'm not terribly far in but we don't know much about Foss yet - he shows up on a train to the town where the country-house having the party is. He is injured getting off the train and is conveyed to the country house (he was not an invited guest; another character invites him). Apparently he took off for Flensham (the town where the story is set) with no plans in mind other than a desire to get away from London, where apparently his beloved spurned him.

The character who "rescues" John Foss is the widow Nadine Leveredge, who is the other character I am tentatively rooting for. She's a widow, and therefore her flirtation with John, while perhaps not ENTIRELY seen as above-board by the others, doesn't bother him too much (she is, apparently, a YOUNG widow - she is described as the sort the Victorians would have said was "too attractive")

There are other characters, some of which, at least so far, are not very completely drawn: there is a family (man, wife, their daughter) of what are implied to be nouveux-riches (He made his money selling meat). There's the Lord of the manor and his daughter (I am fearful the daughter may wind up being the victim here; I get that sense). There is an unpleasant couple called the Chaters (and a character makes a joke to himself that there should have been an "e" inserted into that name) and I suspect perhaps the man will be the victim - if this is the sort of novel where "the most 'deserving' character winds up dead" because Mr. Chater is apparently a blackmailer and also one of those people who thinks himself so important that it is fine for him to bully and abuse the servants of his host's household.

There's also a painter - Leicester Pratt - who is painting a portrait of the Lord's daughter - and a gossip columnist, Lionel Bultin. Pratt and Bultin are made to room together and they argue a bit like an old married couple. They are probably, after Foss and Leveredge, the most interesting characters to me in the book - Bultin is a total cynic and Pratt is somewhat of a cad but they are still interesting.

The title of the book refers to the fact that twelve were invited to the party - Foss, as an uninvited guest, makes number 13 - and of course Foss and several others are superstitious. (As it turns out, the "thirteenth guest" - the person thirteenth to enter the house - is Mr. Chater, which further pushes my hunch that he's the one who will meet an untimely end).

It's funny. A lot lately has been made of the concept of "blanket forts" (people on a couple internet boards I frequent joke about retreating to "blanket forts" when the ugliness of the world gets to be too much). A literal "blanket fort" wouldn't help me too much because of course my thoughts would always follow me in there....and it's usually my thoughts or concerns about what is going on in the world that overwhelm me and make me NEED the concept of a "blanket fort." But having a good, absorbing book, one where I can picture the settings and characters in my mind, helps to shut down some of the concerns and racing thoughts.