by Josephine Tey

If I had to choose a favorite mystery novel, I think I´d pick Josephine Tey´s, Brat Farrar (Touchstone, 1997). I have now read Brat Farrar so many times that I´ve had to replace several worn out copies. I´ve always heard that Tey, who published little more than a handful of novels between 1927 and 1952, had trouble coming up with plots; so she frequently borrowed stories she had read in newspapers and then composed a novel based loosely around those details. (This is certainly the case with her novel, The Franchise Affair, which happens to be possibly my second all time favorite mystery novel.) Even a brief outline of Brat Farrar reveals a familiar plot: A young man masquerades as the heir to a fortune and nearly gets away with it. But Tey turns this summary on its head and the result is an emotionally satisfying novel that answers less who-done-it than how-and-why it was done. The title character, Brat Farrar, returns to England after spending many years in Canada working as a ranch hand. He is sitting peacefully in a restaurant one day when a total stranger comes up to him, addresses him as Simon, and asks him how come he´s able to lounge around London when his 21^st birthday is rapidly approaching (which means that as eldest son he´ll come into a not-inconsiderable inheritance). Shouldn´t he be home helping with the plans for the gala occasion? At first Brat is merely surprised at being mistaken for Simon Ashby, heir to Latchetts, an English country estate devoted to horse breeding, then he´s intrigued when the stranger comes up with an apparently perfect plan, one with a big financial payoff for both men. Brat will simply pretend that he´s Patrick, the first-born twin and therefore the rightful heir. But Patrick disappeared when he was about 13, and has long been presumed dead. Brat, as Patrick, will return to the family, collect his inheritance, split it with the stranger, who turns out to be a close family friend of the Ashby´s, and then disappear again. After some intensive coaching, Brat infiltrates himself into the life of the Ashby family, only to discover that things are seldom what they seem, and an easy con turns potentially deadly.

by Paul Collins

It´s not much of an exaggeration at all for me to say that if Paul Collins happened to write a book about - say - the history of Seattle as recounted through its Yellow Pages, I´d immediately request it from my neighborhood library and probably spend the next few days doing nothing but reading it. That is a somewhat roundabout way of saying that since I´ve thoroughly enjoyed everything that Collins has ever written, I´d follow him - literarily - everywhere. I am happy to report that his newest offering is another must read: perfect for history buffs, Shakespeare fans, and anyone who enjoys learning - painlessly - about a slightly abstruse topic.

The Book of William: How Shakespeare´s First Folio Conquered the World (Bloomsbury, 2009) explores the fate of the collection of the Bard of Avon´s plays that was assembled and edited after his death by his fellow actors and friends John Heminge and Henry Condell. In describing the peregrinations of this collection of plays over the next 400 years, Collins introduces us to a wide assemblage of folks whose lives and interests, as readers, writers, or publishers, had an impact on the world of Shakespeareana. He describes the role of various editors and Shakespeare scholars in the history of the folio, including Samuel Johnson (who worked on an edition of the plays and evidently read even while he was eating), poet Alexander Pope, and Henry Clay Folger, the one-time president of Standard Oil of New York and great amasser of everything Shakespeare (and who, along with his wife, founded the Shakespeare Library in Washington, D.C. that bears his name). With wit and good will (ha!), not to mention an unabashed enthusiasm for his topic, Collins helps us understand the importance to the world of the First Folio, how publishing has changed (and not) since the 16^th century, and what´s known about the fate of the approximately 1,000 copies that were originally printed of Heminge and Condell´s manuscript. Collins writes history the way you wish every historian did: accessible, interesting, and meaningful. I interviewed Collins on my television show and was totally charmed.