THE BANSHEE by Elliott O'Donnell

Elliott O'Donnell's claims that this stories are true don't always strike me as credible, but I have to admit that he's a darn good storyteller and his recountings of various legends is zesty fun and good reading on a cold windy night.

A banshee, for those who don't know, is an Irish legend of a fairy woman, normally attached to a particular family or locality, who weeps and moans, or sometimes sings, as a sign of a death. Banshees could be ugly hags or beautiful young women, they could be weeping and keening mournfully or cackling in maniacal glee, and sometimes are not seen at all. They do not cause a death (as they do when translated in D&D or Chill games), but merely foretell a death that is about to happen and that is inevitable, although in some legends they simply warn when someone is in danger of their lives. Although prevalent in Ireland, there are also legends of banshees in Scotland and in some areas of the United States...presumably, in places with heavy Irish populations.

O'Donnell's The Banshee is a book-length exploration of the folklore and legends of the creature, and while it often slips in to occult mumbo-jumbo and claims of personal experience, it's still a fun read. He discusses just what a banshee is, tales of them from history, the ideas of banshee personality, the nature of banshee hauntings, variations on the legend, and even has a chapter on poetry and prose involving banshees.

Naturally, I don't believe a word of it, but it is good reading, and in an odd way is also a good look into the mythology of the spectral being that foretells death, a folklore trope that's found all over the place. Many old families in the British Isles and elsewhere in Europe have legends of death portents, ranging from certain animals being seen in certain places, to weird supernatural beasts. I once read of a legend of three ghostly women (a young lady, a middle-aged woman, and an aged crone, all dressed in mourning clothes) who were seen knocking on the doors of the Intramuros neighborhood of Manila, and wherever they knocked a death soon occurred, and were supposedly seen knocking doors all over the city just before it was bombed in 1945. While O'Donnell would see that as a banshee-type haunting, I would see it as a repetition of the old folklore.

O'Donnell claims personal experience of banshees, and tells many "personal" stories purportedly heard from friends and acquaintances that may or may not be true, but at least they're shuddersome and entertaining.

The Banshee can be had in an overpriced print-on-demand bound version, but is out of copyright and can be downloaded for free from various online resources, including Amazon. (I read it on the Kindle.) If you're in the mood for some supernatural shudders, this is good fun. Just take it all with a grain of salt.

BELOW SUSPICION by John Dickson Carr

The latest in my dip into Carr, Below Suspicion (1949) is actually quite an engaging story, if marred by some of Carr's usual flaws.

Womanizing lawyer Patrick Butler takes on the case of Joyce Ellis, who's accused of murder. It turns out that Ellis was the companion of elderly and hypochondriac Mildred Taylor, and that Mrs. Taylor died of antimony poisoning under mysterious circumstances. While it's possible that Mrs. Taylor took the dose accidentally, it seems unlikely, but the first part of the book is spent with Butler getting her acquitted of the murder.

Then..lovely Lucia Renshaw is also accused of murder by antimony poisoning, this time of her husband, a vile domineering creature whom she was on the verge of divorcing. Is there a serial poisoner on the loose? Who is it, and how are they doing it?

Horning in on the case is Dr. Gideon Fell, a detective that Carr introduced in 1933's Hag's Nook and continued to write about through 1967. Fell is a corpulent man who walks with two canes, wears a cape and a hat, and is very much based on G. K. Chesterton, both in appearance and personality. This is Fell's 18th appearance, so he's very much in the groove and readers are supposed to know who he is. (It should be noted that Fell is an amateur who gets called on by the police, something that's rather laughable today.)

The story holds up fairly well, and includes a visit to a raffish nightclub behind a blank door in a bad neighborhood that reminds me of stories I've heard of exclusive cocktail lounges that can only be accessed through the phone booth of a cheap hot-dog stand. (Really, there's one like that in New York.) It was also interesting looking at the timing of a murder by comparing taxis and public transport. Another interesting aspect was the postwar setting, a time when Merrie Traditional England was segueing into Modern England.

To its debit, it has the narrative leaps that one comes to expect from Carr, and one of his failings at a storyteller. Characters will suddenly KNOW things and make all sorts of logical leaps, and the reader can't figure out how those folks were able to guess all that stuff. It's not as bad as in some other Carr I've read, but it almost always happens.

The solution is fairly nifty, though. (MILD SPOILERS) It turns out that one of the murders was an accident that occurred in the midst of committing another. (END) It's something you don't come across often and it all makes sense. And there's some good Gothick atmosphere, as the plot involves a cult of Satanic witches whose covenstead must be invaded. That in itself is rather interesting; often the titles of Carr works promise all sorts of Gothick terrors, but the stories end up being mundane. Below Suspicion has a mundane title but the plot actually has some of the Gothick terrors that others are missing. I'll have to see if this crops up in other Carr works.

Below Suspicion is worth reading if you happen on it at the library or your favorite used book store, but I'm not going to make this Required Reading.

THE CHINESE NAIL MURDERS by Robert van Gulik

The last of the "Chinese (four-letter-word) Murders" novels of the Judge Dee series, this is also a turning point in the series. Like others in this sequence, there is a supernatural framing story; in this case, an official receives an unexpected visit from his brother, an official assigned to Pei-Chow, who tells him the story contained in the novel. He then leaves...and then next morning a messenger arrives with news of the brother's death in the faraway city.



Dee has been assigned to the desolate, barren district of Pei-Chow, in China's cold north, for only a couple of months. He and his lieutenants are discussing a recent disappearance of a young girl, when a report is made of the discovery of a woman's headless body. As the novel proceeds there is also the death of a noted martial artist from poison, who leaves a clue in the form of a tangram arrangement. Then a chance encounter has Dee looking into a seemingly natural death from five years before, sure that somehow it must have been murder. Thus we have the three mysteries of the book:  "The Headless Corpse," "The Paper Cat," and "The Murdered Merchant."

The book's weak point is that it lifts almost completely whole a plot from Dee Goong An, so if you've read that you'll know, pretty much, how the murder was done and how it will end.

It does have its strengths, though. There's some great, memorable bits, especially an eerie scene with a snowman. There's a wonderfully-etched couple in the book, kindly hunchback Coroner Kuo and his beautiful and selfless wife, with whom Dee starts to fall in love. And we have the ruthless Mrs. Loo, of whom we have little doubt is guilty, but the real question is how long can she manipulate matters to her own end? And, most shockingly, is the death of Hoong Liang.

There is also real tension here. Dee's questioning of Mrs. Loo puts his career and life in danger, because if she is truly innocent, Dee's accusations of her will cause him to be executed. (Of course, considering there are more books in the series after this, it's easy to guess that he triumphs. In fact, the book ends with Dee being appointed President of the Metropolitan Court and leaving for the Capitol.)

But as with all the rest of the books in the Judge Dee series, this is Required Reading. (And my Judge Dee series is winding down; there's only a novella and two novels left for me to review...)

Monday Night at the Movies!

It's a rainy but warm Monday night; spring has come early to the city. After a quick meal at the usual restaurant, it's off to the movie theater for some classics.

First up is George Melies' 1909 bit of fun Le Locataire Diabolique, or The Diabolical Tenant.



And then...a rarity that few people have heard of: the obscure 1919 supernatural anthology film Unheimliche Geschichten, or Eerie Tales!



Be sure to watch all parts of it. I'm astonished that this film is so unknown; I just happened on it on Youtube and was utterly impressed by it. It's a shame that this is so unavailable...and for pity's sake, not discussed in any reference books. It's almost like it's a secret.

After the movie ends, we head off to our usual cafe for coffee and drinks and discussion...the rain continues to fall gently, and sidewalk is littered with fallen petals from the trees, and we leave a wake in the damp air as we go up the block....

Live from Calcutta! The Firpo's Balloon!

Browsing through Charles H. Baker, Jr.'s The Gentleman's Companion, Vol. II: Being an Exotic Drinking Book, or, Around the World with Jigger, Beaker, and Flask, I came across a recipe that I could actually try.

Baker claims to have first had this in Calcutta, at a dinner held at Firpo's, a popular nightspot for the Anglo community there. (He doesn't say when, but it is clear it was during the Hoover administration, so do the math.) It was called a "Balloon" because five of them was supposed to send one up bobbing on the ceiling.

Perhaps not pretty, but it does pack a whallop.

So, what's the recipe? Take one jigger each: good rye whiskey, absinthe, and Italian (sweet) vermouth. Pour in a shaker with two dashes of orange bitters and two teaspoons egg white. Shake vigorously over ice, then pour into a wide-mouthed champagne glass and serve. I've barely finished one and yes, it's potent. Five would have me on the floor, or on the ceiling.

A note about wide-mouthed champagne glasses: yes, they are hard to find these days. Everyone wants those silly flutes, which are supposed to hold the bubbles and keep the champagne from going flat. Here's a Dust & Corruption household hint: champagne flutes may look nice, but if you have a household where champagne sits around long enough at dessert to go flat, then you're better off not serving champagne at all and dispensing with the flutes. The tulip-shaped champagne glasses have a certain charm, but the wide-mouthed sort are delightfully multi-purpose, and can be used to serve mousse au chocolat or zabaglione at your parties. I found a set at an antique mall in Hagerstown, MD, some time ago and have thanked my lucky stars; look around and you might be able to find some as well. Old glasses like that are delightful at your table and bound to spark conversation.

Note the next morning: I had two Firpo's Balloons, and I woke with a ferocious hangover. Be warned.

Firpo's; I'm told it burned down in the 50s and was never rebuilt.

The Blood-Spattered Bard; or, "An Adaptation of Julius Caesar" from Molotov

It's Shakespeare! It's full of beautiful language and symbolism! And, of course, it's a bloodbath!

An Adaptation of Julius Caesar, Molotov Theatre Group's latest good-natured atrocity, may seem like absurd mayhem on the surface, but underneath not only lie its roots in a classic tragedy, but also quite a bit of contemporary commentary, and quite a few solid performances.

Mark Antony, over the body of Julius C.

The surprising thing about it is that it starts off really seeming like fairly authentic, if condensed Shakespeare. We have Julius C. (a very well-cast James Radack, who physically fits the part perfectly; he has a profile that belongs on a Roman coin) ready to turn the Roman republic into a monarchy, with himself at the head. A clutch of conspirators, including Brutus (Brandon Mitchell), Casca (Evan Crump), and Cassius (Genevieve James, in what I would term a "trouser role" if she wasn't in a toga), fear for Rome's future if that happens, or at least say they do. So midway through the first act, we have the famous stabbing, the classic "Et tu, Brute?", and then the famous funeral scene. By now, I was wondering if and when it was going to veer off into Molotov territory, and I let out a little "oh" as Julius Caesar proceeded to rise from his coffin, sporting a set of fangs, and proceeding to bite the neck of Mark Antony (Brian Wahlquist).

Yes, you read that right.

The second act becomes, in a way, "Marcus Brutus: Vampire Hunter" as he struggles to free Rome from the threat posed by Caesar's vampire legion, dodging the advances of Caesar's converted wife Calpurnia (Jennifer Speerstra), and protecting his own wife Portia (Jessica Thorne), to whom Caesar wants to give the Lucy Westenra treatment. And a soothsayer (Angela Kay Pirko) is getting Renfieldized, while Cassius' ambition grows unchecked.

Cassius, Casca, and Peter, the short-lived Christian. That's me, from the back, in the lower right.

While it may sound utterly berserk, it's actually played very straight-faced and with great conviction. Genevieve James' Cassius is a standout as someone who rallies the well-intentioned for personal gain, and takes every opportunity to grab more power for himself. And, honestly, it's easy to forget it's a woman in that role, she vanishes into it so completely. Brian Wahlquist, as Mark Antony and several other roles, was also memorable; the "Friends, Romans, countrymen" speech that he delivers, which could descend into cliche and parody, is instead enthralling and sincere. James Radack's vampirized Caesar could easily be played for camp, but instead is a man profoundly wronged and consumed by two thirsts, for blood and revenge. Jennifer Speerstra is appropriately vampy as Calpurnia (both before and after), and Jessica Thorne's Portia is believable as the wife who craves the confidence of her husband, but who falls prey to the predations of Caesar. Brandon Mitchell is noble as Brutus, whose tragedy this really is; he's an essentially good and noble person who truly believes he acts for the good of Rome, but who is ultimately destroyed, not only by his decisions but by the company he keeps. Angela Kay Pirko's soothsayer is a wonderful portrait of wisdom mixed with derangement, so appropriate for the role. Evan Crump is solid as conspirator Casca, caught in Cassius' orbit while simultaneously resenting it.

A big plus is the script; Shawn Northrip's work not only keeps the themes of the original Shakespeare work, but also works in observations on the exploitation of religion for political and personal gain, and raising a valid question: are those who declare they act in the name of "freedom" really concerned with everyone's freedom? Or will they be willing to exploit others when it becomes convenient? (All certainly appropriate at this point in history...) Of course, classic themes of the destructive nature of ambition, and how the repercussions of an act of violence can ultimately turn on you, are all there, the sort of essential Bard that shines through. Northrip deserves kudos for that. Occasional riffs from Stoker and assorted Dracula movies are peppered here and there, but do not overwhelm the material (thankfully).

What's a Shakespeare tragedy without a battle?

But Kevin Finkelstein's assured and capable direction makes it happen. Thanks to him, the conviction and sincerity in the performances prevent the show from simply being a camp trifle, and instead make it a legitimate tragedy and lets the message come through. It's quite a high-wire act, and it comes off beautifully. This is remarkable work.

Alex Zavistovich, who I previously dubbed the "Tod Slaughter of the 21st Century," is behind the scenes on this one, doing the fight choreography, makeup, and effects, and there's quite a few effective moments of gore and spurting blood, not to mention a remarkable battle in the second act. Incidental music, that all sounds quite Roman, comes from composer Konstantine Lortkipanidze. And effective lighting is by lighting designer Jason Aufdem-Brinke, who also provided me with the photos in this review, taken on opening night.

Not quite the last act of Hamlet, but close.

If you're in the DC area, or can make it in, this is simply not to be missed. It's a great, funny melding of Shakespeare and a Saturday-night horror show, but with many legitimate things to say, and eye-opening performances. An Adaptation of Julius Caesar is simply not to be missed, no way, no how.

An Adaptation of Julius Caesar is playing 3/15 to 4/7 at the Shop at Fort Fringe, 607 New York Ave NW, Washington DC. Tickets are $20 a throw and can be ordered here; and you can always go to Molotov themselves for more information.

See 'em before the final curtain call!

Addition to the Calendar: The Mutter Ball!

Just found out about this. Philadelphia's Mutter Museum, a gloriously gruesome assemblage of medical curiosities, is having a ball on 3/31!

It features a performance by San Francisco-based songstress Jill Tracy, who I adore. Here's the painful part: tickets are $85 for just the dance party, $150 for the dance party and access to the Speakeasy Lounge, and $300 for a gala dinner and cocktail reception as well as the Lounge and dance party. Too much for me right now; if I'd known a few months ago I might have been able to make arrangements.

But the theme! "Medicine and Electricity in the Roaring Twenties." OH MY GOD I WANT TO GO! This is agonizing for me.

Anyway, if you can go, tickets and other information are at the 2012 Mutter Ball site. And if you do go, I expect a report.