So many good questions, so I'll just answer a few and come back to the others later.
I think this does work as a mystery novel, as the clues are there for us to pick up on as we go along. It also works on lots of other levels too, are there ever circumstances where suppressing the truth is the right thing to do for one.
I am very sorry for Annie. We have the whole her husband married beneath him idea which sounds so patronising. Annie might have been working class, but the novel would have been better (it's not one of my favourite ones of Sayer) if she'd been his intellectual equal but forced due to her own education and raising children to do a menial job. I find the way the dons treat her and the other scouts pretty grim to be honest. This may be coloured by having a lecturer ask me when I was at college if I'd be happier ironing my husbands shirts than trying to follow an academic career. He was making assumptions based not just on my sex, but my accent and schooling.
I'll follow up some of the other questions later, but I think Jerry is probably my favourite character.
The first of Dorothy Sayers mysteries I read was Strong Poison, and I think the second was The Unpleasantness at the Bellona Club (possible spoiler alert).
(A clever title which obscures the fact that there is no murder in it)
It was only in later re-reading that I read them all in chronological order.
I continue really to warm to the importance of the idea of marriage as a marriage of equals, and I love the way Harriet and Peter are both fully realised and such good foils for each other.
I think the whole exploration of the roles and expectations for men and women is very thought provoking, even in the 21st century, however much we (men?) might like to think the question is now resolved.
Also I think it is an excellent book on the question of vocation and Harriet's wonderings about being a writer or an academic, along with the pressures on her to confirm to particular gender expectations strike a deep chord with me.
My two favourites, I would say, are (in order) Busman's Honeymoon and Murder Must Advertise (which includes an oblique reference to Peter proposing to Harriet).
I love the exchange between Wimsey and the Dean at dinner
The Warden supplied him with a little local history, breaking off to say:
'But probably you are not specially interested in all this question of women's education.'
'Is it still a question? It ought not to be. I hope you are not going to ask me whether I approve of women's doing this and that.'
'Why not?'
'You should not imply that I have any right either to approve or disapprove.'
'I assure you,' said the Warden, 'that even in Oxford we still encounter a certain number of people who maintain their right to disapprove.'
'And I had hoped I was returning to civilisation.'
I'll pick away at my own questions a few at a time, as well, particularly as they relate to what other people have already said here:
1. How well did this book work for you as a mystery novel? Were you engaged with the mystery? Surprised and satisfied by the resolution? What worked and what didn’t, for you – evaluating this primarily as a mystery novel?
It works very well for me. I like that, for once, it's not a murder -- I enjoy other types of mysteries, and the whole extended campaign of harrassment/revenge Annie carries out means that the mystery is being solved while it's still happening. The resolution did take me by surprise, not just when I first read it but the first couple of times, since I have the delightful ability to reread mysteries with a gap of a few years and not remember whodunit. On this latest re-reading, what struck me most was how carefully and well Sayers sowed the clues. On first meeting Miss DeVine and on first meeting Annie, we are given, in conversation, much of the information that we later learn is crucial to the solution of the mystery. And every time Annie appears or is mentioned, there's another little piece of information about her or her children (even their classically-inspired names!) that's dropped in to fit into the puzzle.
HOWEVER ... I have one huge quibble with the mystery plot. It makes NO SENSE WHATSOEVER that at the end of the novel, especially when Peter has to go away and is worried for Harriet's safety, that he does not tell her that Annie is the suspect. There's no in-book reason for him not to tell her at this point -- any desire for her to "work it out herself" would and should be superseded by the concern for her and Miss DeVine's safety. It seems to me like it's only done to prolong the mystery for the reader, as we are so closely in Harriet's POV in this novel that if she knew, we could know and lose the suspense. It's not just unlikely but fairly irresponsible of Peter not to tell her who he suspects before he leaves Oxford for that meeting.
9. Is Annie a believable villain? Do you think Sayers sympathizes with her, and/or expects the reader to? Did you have sympathy for her?
I find Annie a very sympathetic villain, more sympathetic, I think, than Sayers intended me to. When she goes into her big final monologue/rant at the members of the SCR, I have to remind myself of the crimes Annie herself committed, especially her persecution of Miss Newland -- otherwise I find myself sympathizing largely with her! The pursuit of pure intellectual truth is a lofty goal, for sure, but how much does it mean to a woman with two children to support and a disgraced, depressed husband to deal with?
I find the way the dons treat her and the other scouts pretty grim to be honest.
There's tremendous classism here, which I think is not just the Shrewsbury dons' classism but Sayers' own -- the scouts are always portrayed as unintelligent and mildly ridiculous or at least silly. This is good for the mystery as it keeps Annie well in the background as a suspect because she's never taken seriously -- but I do find it jarring, in a novel that is so much about women being treated as men's equals, that that clearly only applies to middle and upper-class educated women, not to the class of women who become scouts in Oxfort colleges. This is also my answer to my own question #4 -- as with Sayers' anti-semitism in Whose Body (for example), her classism here is very much "of her time" but her inability to question it and move beyond it is disappointing to me as a 20th/21st century reader.
It was really about women of a certain social class being treated the same as men of a certain social class. The classes certainly stay in their place in this novel.
It was really about women of a certain social class being treated the same as men of a certain social class. The classes certainly stay in their place in this novel.
Yes, absolutely. Padgett, for example, as a man of the servant class is pure comic relief for most of the novel. One note I always find interesting here is that Padgett is generally portrayed as a positive, likeable, trustworthy character, though he is opposed to women's rights and women's education -- and at one point he is quoted as saying that "what this country needs is a Hitler." Always interesting to see attitudes towards Hitler in novels written in the 1930s. It reminded me of doing research in a local newspaper for the year 1925 and coming across a column titled, "Does Newfoundland Need a Mussolini?"
Do you mean just the fact that the "protective gear" Peter chooses to give her is a dog-collar? I think I would find that creepy if both the characters and the text didn't acknowledge the weirdness of it, but they do, which for me kind of neutralizes the creepiness of it. If Peter, Harriet, or the narrator treated this as if it were a perfectly normal thing, I think I would find that creepy, but all seem to recognize that it's a bit weird.
I certainly found the collar odd - though I must admit that I spent a certain amount of that episode trying to work out which field they might be in... Maybe DLS was secretly a bit kinky? (insert smiley to your taste)
Padgett is definitely an odd character. As Trudy says, in some ways he is quite charming, but then there's the" 'itler" remark - when GN was written, no-one knew how bad Hitler would get, and he certainly had sympathy from many people in Britain (famously, Lord Northcliffe, for one), and I think that is the key. It sounds far more incongruous to post-WW2 readers than it would have at the time.
Yes, that's what I mean about mentions of Hitler in pre-WW2 novels (and non-fiction) being so interesting -- with hindsight, we read throwaway comments like Padgett's so differently.
Yes, that's what I mean about mentions of Hitler in pre-WW2 novels (and non-fiction) being so interesting -- with hindsight, we read throwaway comments like Padgett's so differently.
Am I right in thinking that Padgett was a college porter? There's quite a strong strand in Oxford-set fiction of seeing porters as authoritarians - see (in particular) the 'Endeavour' tv shows and (from memory) the tv version of Porterhouse Blue. If I'm right in identifying that strand, then an admiration for the German strongman isn't necessarily that surprising.
A quick look at af few online papers about the British Union of Fascists shows a lively debate over how much of the support was from the working class versus the middle class.
It's a long time since I read the book but I do recall thinking before I got to the end that Sayers was so invested in the Dons at Shrewsbury that none of them would turn out to be the villain. As proved to be the case. My favourite bit is early on at the Gaudy where we hear about all the career histories of Harriet's year mates - it's a fascinating bit of sociology the kinds of careers women of that time would have found themselves in. The woman who ended up as a farmer's wife after being a brilliant academic: a "race horse hitched to a plough" - is particularly poignant - there must have been many such.
In addition to the Hitler references, I found the serious consideration of eugenics disturbingly interesting.
I must say one of my favorite bits was the meet up of Harriet and St. George. Gherkins' absolute mortification about spilling Peter's romantic past to his current object of love makes me laugh every time!
HOWEVER ... I have one huge quibble with the mystery plot. It makes NO SENSE WHATSOEVER that at the end of the novel, especially when Peter has to go away and is worried for Harriet's safety, that he does not tell her that Annie is the suspect. There's no in-book reason for him not to tell her at this point -- any desire for her to "work it out herself" would and should be superseded by the concern for her and Miss DeVine's safety. It seems to me like it's only done to prolong the mystery for the reader, as we are so closely in Harriet's POV in this novel that if she knew, we could know and lose the suspense. It's not just unlikely but fairly irresponsible of Peter not to tell her who he suspects before he leaves Oxford for that meeting.
There is a bit where Harriet muses that Peter is treating her as an equal as his principal concern isn't her safety, but the fact as she's promised to investigate the disturbances she should continue to do so. The assumption is that if Harriet was a man, this is what Peter would have done. If a man I cared about expressed a concern about my welfare when I was doing something dangerous I wouldn't assume they were saying that because I was a woman, but because they were genuinely worried about my safety.
There's been enough trouble with inequality between Peter and Harriet in the past (so much of it gendered and sexualized) that I can see why he's bending over backward to avoid any accusation of that, even the one that might arise from a natural non-gendered protective instinct. Perhaps if there had not been that history, he would have felt able to say something. As it is, I'm pretty sure that if he had expressed the least bit of "I wish you weren't doing this" she'd have taken alarm (or umbrage) and it would have been all over for him, fairly or not.
Do you mean just the fact that the "protective gear" Peter chooses to give her is a dog-collar? I think I would find that creepy if both the characters and the text didn't acknowledge the weirdness of it, but they do, which for me kind of neutralizes the creepiness of it.
I didn't find it in the slightest weird, in context. Given the absence of a local armourer able to fir Miss Vane with a gorget, a thick leather dog collar seems like the only feasible and expedient way of acquiring some protection.
I am still amused by "Mr Jones of Jesus".
As far as Annie goes, I find her very believable. Sympathetic? That's more difficult. I find her opinions reprehensible, even adjusting for the era, but they're not so uncommon. And I've met contemporary women with opinions not too far from Annie's. So how much do I view Annie as a person with frankly evil opinions who is largely the author of her own fate, and how much do I view her as a victim of circumstance? I don't think I can disentangle the two, because Annie's antediluvian opinions are surely a product of her upbringing and environment.
And of course, Annie's position is logically nonsense. Her fraudulent husband was exposed, to his subsequent ruin, by the scholarship of a woman, on which grounds Annie resents female scholarship. But had Annie had her way - had women not been permitted to play any part in academic discourse, then Miss de Vine wouldn't have exposed her husband, but in all probability, some male scholar would have done.
Very good point, @Leorning Cniht, about the irrationality of Annie's hatred of female scholars. I wonder would she have felt the same rage and resentment if her husband's fraud had been exposed by a male scholar? Or did she take it to that level because she became obsessed with the idea that that kind of scholarship is not a woman's "proper job"?
As to the previous point -- I agree with Harriet that Peter is treating her as an equal by allowing her to expose herself to danger rather than trying to protect her -- I think that's a very important key to what finally makes her able to accept his proposal. But leaving her at Oxford at the point where he KNOWS Annie is almost certainly the guilty party, and he is very concerned Annie may strike again, possibly fatally -- frankly, that goes beyond allowing Harried to expose herself to danger. Peter is actually putting her in danger, and Miss DeVine as well, by not telling them at this point that he suspects Annie. He tells them to be careful, but not who they need to be careful of, which is reckless -- to a degree that I think is out of character for Peter and not warranted by the situation, which is why I think it's only there to make the novel work as a novel -- to keep the reader wondering whodunit.
1. How well did this book work for you as a mystery novel? Were you engaged with the mystery? Surprised and satisfied by the resolution? What worked and what didn’t, for you – evaluating this primarily as a mystery novel?
I enjoyed the mystery, but worked out it was Annie before the end, so thought the clues were a bit too obvious. Harriet was working from the theory that it was one of the single staff, as people back then believed a single, childless woman, especially one who didn't have sex with men, might be driven insane. Perhaps readers in 1935 would also be focused on these charaters? Sayers does not seem like the type of person to agree with this view and I suspected there would be a twist and Harriet was being blinded by her own worries about whether to marry or not. So I narrowed the suspects down to a character who was married, engaged or had a boyfriend. Most of those characters were ruled out due to alibis. I thought the perpetrator might be Miss. Chilperic, but they made a big deal of her fiances name being Jacob Peppercorn and this did not match the name or life circumstances in Miss. De Vine's story of the man she had caught out. I added up the clues such as Annie's husband having died and possibly being mental ill or criminal, Harriet talking negatively about marrying a bad husband in front of Annie after which she became more of a target, and the more obvious clues later in the book when Wimsey names the eldest child, who had the same name as Annie's eldest, Beatrice and mentioned there was a second child. I agree with others that Wimsey should have warned Harriet about Annie, but he did give her the very obvious clues and I think trusted her to work them out/wanted to give her the opportunity to solve the mystery to show he considered her an equal. But Harriet was too focused on the perpetrator likely being a deranged single woman and somebody who was educated, due to the Latin quote.
I also suspected the Vane/De Vine names would have some part to play, although I didn't pick up that that was why Wimsey confirmed Harriet's middle name started with a D. I wonder if Sayers had read the 1861 novel 'East Lynne', which has a rather sensationalist story line involving characters called Isabel Vane and Madame Vine. I don't want to give away the fairly obvious twist in that novel, but the similar names in that book also are integral to the plot.
2. Some readers find this book frustrating because it doesn’t seem to them to be primarily a mystery novel. Did you find the Peter/Harriet romance plot more central than the mystery – and how did it work for you as a love story?
I liked the love story except that I don't really like stories where a character, usually a man, pursues another character for years after repeatedly being told no. However, it did seem like Harriet treated Peter as a bit of a backup boyfriend and Miss. De Vine was correct in her judgement that Harriet had not made it obvious enough she did not want to marry him. I still felt like Peter loved Harriet more than she loved him by the time she accepted the proposal. It sounds like Peter was a bit of a sugar daddy to women all over Europe and it wasn't clear whether those relationships ceased once he met Harriet, so it is understandable if Harriet questioned how genuine he was. Just realised I answered question 7!
3. Much of both the external and internal conflict in this novel turns on the question of whether personal loyalties should be allowed to supersede professional ones – this conflict drives both the mystery and the romance plots, in different ways. How good a job do you think the novel does of addressing (and resolving?) this conflict?
I don't think the novel or anyone has resolved this problem. Most people who marry and have children or who have other caring responsibilities have to balance these with work/professional responsibilities or choose one or the other if possible.
6. As well as being written in 1935, the novel is very deeply rooted in the culture of Oxford at that time. Did you feel like there were aspects of the story you didn’t quite get, or important references that were obscure to you, because of details of time and place that you didn’t understand? (And if so, is there anything you’d like to ask other readers about, to see if they can add to your understanding?)
I was a bit confused about how colleges work. Did the women attend lecturers by male professors as well, or were they entirely taught by the dons? There were a number of men's colleges - were these just for accommodation and dining or did they affect who taught the men in each college?
8. What about the other characters, other than Peter and Harriet? This novel has a large cast – do you have a favourite?
I liked Bunter - I would marry him over Peter 😉, but mainly based on the T.V. series as he was barely in this novel.
9. Is Annie a believable villain? Do you think Sayers sympathizes with her, and/or expects the reader to? Did you have sympathy for her?
I found Annie believable. I felt her situation to be sympathetic, having married a man she thought would provide security and a higher social position than her birth family, the circumstances would have been very difficult. And she did seem to genuinely love her husband as well. However her actions were a total overreaction and it seemed she probably could not have been a nice person even if life had turned out better for her. She reminded me of an internet troll who tries to bully others to suicide over what she did to Newman. And I certainly had no sympathy for her trying to frame Miss. De Vine or kill anybody. She did make some good points about class and the wealthier women not understanding the position and life challenges of working class women in her rant after being caught.
11. If this was your first time reading this novel, how did you feel about it in general? Do you want to go back and read the earlier Wimsey books, or read on to Busman’s Honeymoon to find out what happens next?
I still prefer Agatha Christie, but may go and read some more of the series if they are available at my library. Can I assume Peter and Harriet's marriage turned out to be happy as I hope it does? I feel sad that they are about to live through World War 2. Does the series extend into that time period?
@Mili This series doesn't really go into WW2 - although there is a short story somewhere - unless you want to tread the Jill Paton-Walsh continuation novels. Personally I don't think Jill Paton-Walsh gets it right.
The earlier Wimsey books are more like Christie's intellectual puzzles.
(I'll answer the proper questions when I've finished rereading the book, but I'm only part way through and it's a while since I last read it. This is one of those book series I've been reading since I was a teenager.)
@Mili, I think you're a much more skilled mystery reader than I am! I am almost never able to put the clues together in this way when I'm reading a novel. I can only go back after the reveal and think, "Ohhhh ... of course, this all makes sense!"
11. If this was your first time reading this novel, how did you feel about it in general? Do you want to go back and read the earlier Wimsey books, or read on to Busman’s Honeymoon to find out what happens next?
I still prefer Agatha Christie, but may go and read some more of the series if they are available at my library. Can I assume Peter and Harriet's marriage turned out to be happy as I hope it does? I feel sad that they are about to live through World War 2. Does the series extend into that time period?
The only canonical Sayers glimpse into Peter and Harriet's marriage is the novel Busman's Honeymoon, which, as the title suggests, takes place during their honeymoon, and a couple of short stories which show them married with a family. They certainly do seem to be happy.
My own answer to the question of where Gaudy Night fits in the Wimsey canon is that I feel on this rereading more than ever that Gaudy Night and Busman's Honeymoon need to be read together, not just for the pleasure of bringing the love story to completion, but because I think Busman's Honeymoon attempts to answer the question that Gaudy Night poses about the competing claims of personal and professional loyalty.
Throughout GN, Harriet worries constantly about whether she could ever be truly independent and treated as an equal if married to Peter -- whether any woman can be a full equal in marriage. The only good example she sees during the course of GN is the old classmate who works alongside her archeologist husband, but most of Harriet's role models seem to be single women like the Shrewsbury dons.
When she finally does make the leap and marry Peter, the conflict between personal and professional loyalty arises almost immediately in BH -- however, it's not Peter posing a threat to Harriet's independence but the reverse, when [text hidden to conceal a very vague reference to something that happens in BH]
his pursuit of an investigation threatens to expose a possible suspect that Harriet feels protective towards (I hope that's vague enough not to be a Busman's Honeymoon spoiler, but I'm tagging it just in case). They have their first marital argument over whether he should pursue the investigation at all costs, regardless of Harriet's feelings.
I think it's very interesting in the light of the questions raised in Gaudy Night, that we see some of those same issues play out in Busman's Honeymoon -- even though Sayers apparently never intended to write BH, the two books really read like a planned pair to me.
There's been enough trouble with inequality between Peter and Harriet in the past (so much of it gendered and sexualized) that I can see why he's bending over backward to avoid any accusation of that, even the one that might arise from a natural non-gendered protective instinct. Perhaps if there had not been that history, he would have felt able to say something. As it is, I'm pretty sure that if he had expressed the least bit of "I wish you weren't doing this" she'd have taken alarm (or umbrage) and it would have been all over for him, fairly or not.
True. It must be remembered that this story follows Have His Carcase (my personal favorite--so good that I immediately re-read it as soon as I finished it the first time). In Carcase Harriet finds a dead body at the shore. Peter comes down there and tries to make light of it (along the lines of teasing that Harriet is trying to steal a perfectly good case from him). But later, they get into an argument and Harriet demands to know the real reason he came down, and he admits that it was because he didn't want her to have to send for him. (After all, the corpse appeared to have been killed quite recently and the only person anywhere near it was Harriet...one can't blame the police for holding some suspicion of her.) That condescending patronizing from Peter doesn't go over well, as you can imagine. By GN, Peter is actively trying to be better--perhaps overdoing it by not warning of danger that he would have made if he was investigating with Charles Parker.
The only canonical Sayers glimpse into Peter and Harriet's marriage is the novel Busman's Honeymoon
There’s a tiny glimpse of it in The haunted policeman published in Detection Medley (1939) and in a collection of Dorothy Sayers’ short stories called Striding Folly in 1972, and a bit more in Talboys first published in that volume. Both can be found in the usual places and on the faded page website.
The only canonical Sayers glimpse into Peter and Harriet's marriage is the novel Busman's Honeymoon
There’s a tiny glimpse of it in The haunted policeman published in Detection Medley (1939) and in a collection of Dorothy Sayers’ short stories called Striding Folly in 1972, and a bit more in Talboys first published in that volume. Both can be found in the usual places and on the faded page website.
Yes, those were the short stories I mentioned; couldn't remember the titles.
The mention of Charles Parker above reminds me of one of my tiny pet peeves with Gaudy Night, extending into Busman's Honeymoon -- they way important relationships from previous books are dropped with no hint as to whether the relationship has actually waned, or Sayers just forgot to write about it. There's obviously no place for Parker as a police officer in GN, but he also seems to be absent as Peter's friend, even though Freddy Arbuthnot makes a comeback -- someone who was far less important to Peter. This continues in BN to the point that
although Charles and Mary are briefly mentioned as being present at the wedding in the role of Peter's sister and brother-in-law, Peter has Jerry as his best man, when every thing in every book up to GN would have suggested Parker for that role.
Did Sayers just lose interest in Parker as a character (he's a great character in the earlier books) or should we assume there was some cooling in his and Peter's friendship after Parker was involved in Harriet's arrest in Strong Poison?
Likewise, Harriet's two good friends from Strong Poison, Sylvia and Eiluned (who are coded as a lesbian couple in a very low-key way in that book, I think) don't make a reappearance when she talks about and sees her London friends in Gaudy Night, and by Busman's Honeymoon
Harriet's bridesmaids are all Shrewsbury dons. Appropriate, given the role Oxford plays at that stage in her life, and in getting her and Peter together at last, but I was surpised Sylvia and Eiluned weren't at least at the wedding if not bridesmaids -- again, perhaps a friendship that's fallen by the wayside over the intervening years, or just an author's omission?
(Again, spoiler-tagged for minor plot spoilers in Busman's Honeymoon, but even if you choose to avoid the spoilers, the point remains that people who were very important in Peter's and Harriet's lives earlier go unmentioned in the later books at points where you would expect old friends to show up, and I never know whether Sayers got careless and forgot abou them, or whether she meant to imply that those friendships had faded over time).
1.. How well did this book work for you as a mystery novel? Were you engaged with the mystery? Surprised and satisfied by the resolution? What worked and what didn’t, for you – evaluating this primarily as a mystery novel?
The book held up well as a mystery novel. At times though I wondered which was the plot and which was the sub-plot. I found myself caring more about Peter and Harriet’s relationship than I did about the mystery at times. I feared their relationship was going to remain unresolved . I was very pleased with her, placet.
2. Some readers find this book frustrating because it doesn’t seem to them to be primarily a mystery novel. Did you find the Peter/Harriet romance plot more central than the mystery – and how did it work for you as a love story?
I didn’t find this frustrating. See my answer to question 1.
3. Much of both the external and internal conflict in this novel turns on the question of whether personal loyalties should be allowed to supersede professional ones – this conflict drives both the mystery and the romance plots, in different ways. How good a job do you think the novel does of addressing (and resolving?) this conflict?
4. The novel is now 85 years old. What parts of it feel dated to you?
My training is as an historian. I find it rather easy to slip into historical novels. I enjoyed the various aspects that were referring to the state of Europe at the time. Attitudes, amenities and class distinctions seemed to accurately reflect the time period.
5. As well as being written in 1935, the novel is very deeply rooted in the culture of Oxford at that time. Did you feel like there were aspects of the story you didn’t quite get, or important references that were obscure to you, because of details of time and place that you didn’t understand? (And if so, is there anything you’d like to ask other readers about, to see if they can add to your understanding?)
I have spent my last 40 years studying and working on university campuses, albeit not Oxford. Occasionally, the language seemed foreign ex. Scout for servant but most issues that were important could be sussed out by context.
6. Sayers has sometimes been accused (perhaps unfairly) of falling in love with her own detective character, and creating Harriet Vane as a sort of self-insert character to fall in love with and marry Lord Peter. What do you think of Harriet as a character – especially as the main point-of-view character, as so much of the novel takes place in her head?
I found Harriet frustrating in that I could not understand why she did not simply get on with it and accept Peter’s proposal. I liked that the story was told from her pov rather than Wimsey’s. I also liked how Wimsey remained off-stage for half of the book. An effective theatrical device.
7. Is Peter’s pursuit of Harriet over the last 5 years (as summarized in this novel, or as depicted in Strong Poison and Have His Carcase, if you’ve read those) fair and respectful? Or is he an entitled man who refuses to take No for an answer and doesn’t fully understand the concept of consent?
I have only read this book so I believe his “pursuit” was respectful.
8. What about the other characters, other than Peter and Harriet? This novel has a large cast – do you have a favourite?
9.
Peter's nephew was probably my favourite for his unabashed chutzpah.
10. Is Annie a believable villain? Do you think Sayers sympathizes with her, and/or expects the reader to? Did you have sympathy for her?
Although, I abhorred Annie’s attitudes towards women, they were reflective, in general, of her time, class and place. I am not sure how Sayers felt about her but I sympathised with her. Academia is not so important that one should ruin another’s life over pursuit for the truth.
10. If you have read Sayers’ other Lord Peter Wimsey novels, where does this fit into the canon for you? Is it one of your favourites, or otherwise? Why?
First Sayers novel for me.
11. If this was your first time reading this novel, how did you feel about it in general? Do you want to go back and read the earlier Wimsey books, or read on to Busman’s Honeymoon to find out what happens next? I plan to read Busman’s Honeymoon soon.
12. If this was a reread for you – particularly if it’s an old favourite you’ve read more than once – how was the experience of coming back to it different from a first read? Has your perception of the story and the characters changed over time?
First read.
6. Sayers has sometimes been accused (perhaps unfairly) of falling in love with her own detective character, and creating Harriet Vane as a sort of self-insert character to fall in love with and marry Lord Peter. What do you think of Harriet as a character – especially as the main point-of-view character, as so much of the novel takes place in her head?
I found Harriet frustrating in that I could not understand why she did not simply get on with it and accept Peter’s proposal. I liked that the story was told from her pov rather than Wimsey’s. I also liked how Wimsey remained off-stage for half of the book. An effective theatrical device.
7. Is Peter’s pursuit of Harriet over the last 5 years (as summarized in this novel, or as depicted in Strong Poison and Have His Carcase, if you’ve read those) fair and respectful? Or is he an entitled man who refuses to take No for an answer and doesn’t fully understand the concept of consent?
I have only read this book so I believe his “pursuit” was respectful.
I think Harriet's reluctance is easier to understand if you're read Strong Poison and Have His Carcase. This also speaks to @Mili's point that:
I don't really like stories where a character, usually a man, pursues another character for years after repeatedly being told no.
Although Harriet certainly has sent some mixed messages over the years -- both in the earlier books and this one -- I think Peter has done a bit of the "relentlessly pursue her until she says yes" during those same years. He admits to this in his big speech near the end of Gaudy Nightwhen he says that he had been incredibly arrogant to pursue her when she was at such a low point in her life; he apologizes for that arrogance, asks if they can start afresh, and promises that if she says No at Oxford, he will take No as her final answer. So I think he does recognize that he has been doing that "relentless pursuit" game and is trying to move past that and be better.
There's obviously no place for Parker as a police officer in GN, but he also seems to be absent as Peter's friend, even though Freddy Arbuthnot makes a comeback -- someone who was far less important to Peter. This continues in BH to the point that
Hidden Text
although Charles and Mary are briefly mentioned as being present at the wedding in the role of Peter's sister and brother-in-law, Peter has Jerry as his best man, when every thing in every book up to GN would have suggested Parker for that role.
Did Sayers just lose interest in Parker?
In response to the point in the hidden text
There was a convention that the best man should be unmarried - hence Parker’s ineligibility.
Given the events of Strong Poison it’s easy to think there would be some delicacy in establishing a relationship between Harriet and Charles Parker in the same way she happens to bump into Freddie. And it’s precisely because Freddie is not so close a friend of Peter’s that he doesn’t hold back from Harriet about the nature of Peter’s work.
7. Is Peter’s pursuit of Harriet over the last 5 years (as summarized in this novel, or as depicted in Strong Poison and Have His Carcase, if you’ve read those) fair and respectful? Or is he an entitled man who refuses to take No for an answer and doesn’t fully understand the concept of consent?
I think Harriet’s conversation with Miss de Vine answers this point.
Miss de Vine: ‘If you are determined that you're not fit to black his boots, tell him so and send him away.'
'I've been trying to send Peter away for five years. It doesn't have that effect on him.'
'If you had really tried, you could have sent him away in five minutes.... Forgive me. I don't suppose you've had a very easy time with yourself. But it can't have been easy for him, either--looking on at it, and quite powerless to interfere.'
'Yes. I almost wish he had interfered, instead of being so horribly intelligent. It would be quite a relief to be ridden over rough-shod for a change.'
'He will never do that. That's his weakness. He'll never make up your mind for you. You'll have to make your own decisions. You needn't be afraid of losing your independence; he will always force it back on you.’
Peter does warn Harriet of the danger to herself and Miss de Vine, and in the circumstances not naming the suspect doesn’t AFAICT make any difference. He also put in place arrangements to warn Miss de Vine via the Dean, but that fell through
Peter: ‘I find it difficult to forgive myself for not having spoken earlier--with or without proof--and put the suspect under observation.'
'Oh, nonsense!' said Harriet, quickly. 'If you had, she might have chucked the whole thing for the rest of the term, and we should still not know anything definite. I wasn't much hurt.'
'No. But it might not have been you. I knew you were ready to take the risk; but I had no right to expose Miss de Vine.'
'It seems to me,' said Miss de Vine, 'that the risk was rightly and properly mine.'
'The worst responsibility rests on me,' said the Warden. 'I should have telephoned the warning to you before you left Town.'
The discussion earlier over the dog collar reminds of a bit that I frequently recall about GN. Peter mentions that the collar should be put in a glass display case:
'It's the only thing you've ever let me give you.'
'Except my life--except my life--except my life.'
'Damn!' said Peter, and stared out angrily over the windscreen. 'It must have been a pretty bitter gift, if you can't let either of us forget it.'
This is then followed by Harriet allowing Peter to give her the ivory chessmen. In a book full of nasty acts, the fate of the ivory chessman upset me the most. When it was decided to do this book, one of the first things I remembered was the ivory chessmen.
@Caissa , it strikes me as a great pity that this was your first Sayers novel. When I was in college, my girlfriend expressed an interest in reading the novels, and I made her read the Harriet Vane novels in order, steadfastly refusing to tell her how the relationship turns out. Well, until after she read GN because she got to the end and, not knowing Latin, wanted to know whether Harriet said yes. (She suspected it from the surrounding text, but wanted confirmation...and a translation.) She then thanked me for making her read them in order. It adds so much to GN to do so.
I think Harriet's reluctance is easier to understand if you're read Strong Poison and Have His Carcase. This also speaks to @Mili's point that:
I don't really like stories where a character, usually a man, pursues another character for years after repeatedly being told no.
Although Harriet certainly has sent some mixed messages over the years -- both in the earlier books and this one -- I think Peter has done a bit of the "relentlessly pursue her until she says yes" during those same years.
Interesting - I've never seen Harriet's messages as at all mixed. I think she's quite clear in the earlier books that were she and Peter to be two ordinary people who had met in some ordinary way, then she'd have no hesitation about saying 'yes'. And as one of the dons makes clear in this book (Miss de Vine, I think), she could have sent Peter away in five minutes, had she wanted to. (Ah - I see @BroJames has quoted this passage above.)
Peter's pursuit of Harriet may have been relentless, but he has scrupulously avoided applying any sort of pressure, and flat-out refuses to accept any kind of obligation or gratitude on Harriet's part. And his proposals, whilst continual, are all rather pro-forma and expect to be rejected. They're "I don't suppose ...?" and "Num ...?"
So I don't see this as hounding in any way - rather an acceptance that he knows they have these unresolved status issues, but he's reaffirming his interest, and promising that he has no interest in pursuing other prospects.
@Hedgehog, my experience was exactly the same as your girlfriend's -- except that I did read Gaudy Night first and so missed the backstory, which was a shame. But I also (at 16) did not know any Latin and was not 100% certain Harriet had said yes, though the context certainly seemed to suggest she did. If I'm remembering correctly, the person who loaned me GN also had a copy of Busman's Honeymoon so I was able to read on and find out the rest -- but it was some time before I got the earlier books and was able to read the story in order. I agree it's much better to start with Strong Poison and watch the relationship unfold - or even to start with Whose Body and watch Peter's character unfold before he even meets Harriet.
Someone further up in the discussion questioned whether Peter was still keeping his various European mistresses during the time he was wooing Harriet. I believe this is answered in the biographical sketch by Uncle Paul, which is included in some editions. Uncle Paul says Peter has "a foolish, pleasant habit of keeping to one woman at a time" [quoting from memory, may not be exact] suggesting that he has not been with anyone else since initially declaring his love for Harriet. I think this is borne out by Jerry telling Harriet that the story about Peter and the Viennese singer was six years ago - which would be before he met Harriet.
But I also (at 16) did not know any Latin and was not 100% certain Harriet had said yes, though the context certainly seemed to suggest she did.
This is very much an Oxford novel. For those unfamiliar with the context, in the graduation ceremony, a proctor will present (in Latin, natch) a group of candidates to be admitted to a particular degree, culminating in asking the question "Placetne?" (more or less "does it please?, with no implication that either a yes or no answer is expected) of the assembled Congregation. Whilst doing this, the proctor takes several paces up and down the aisle, theoretically checking that no member present wishes to object to the granting of a degree to one of the candidates present. I'm pretty sure that the proctor removes his cap whilst doing so. Seeing no objection, the proctor announces "Placet" (it pleases) on behalf of the Congregation, and the ceremony continues.
The common belief is that the way that someone objects to the granting of a degree is to pluck the sleeve of the proctor as he passes; the proctors wear a gown with sleeves of black velvet. (See the final paragraph of the book.) This particular belief, like many associated with Oxford's traditions, seems to be apocryphal; to my knowledge, it first appears in print in the 1850s novel "The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green" by Cuthbert Bede.
The mess is complicated by the presence of her dead lover, who apparently treated her in the most sexist and belittling ways he could think up--leading her to almost complete disbelief in Peter's ability to be attracted to her as a person-of-value, rather than just an object-to-be-rescued (damsel in distress) or person-to-be-patronized-from-on-high. I'm not saying that Peter does indeed do as much of that as he seems to accuse himself of; but there is very little chance that ANY overture from Peter is going to be received in any other way, given her past history. At Oxford, they are finally standing on level ground. Slightly in her favor, in fact, as it is a women's college and she is an alumna of it, which he is not. And pretty much all the characters treat her "colorful past" as a matter of no moment compared to her present work (Annie being a notable exception). Oxford gave them a chance to start again.
I do regret those chessmen. They were so lovely, even if only in description. And they gave Harriet the opportunity to make a moderately costly (to her ego) apologetic gesture to Peter for raking up the whole bitter wrangle about his role in rescuing her in Strong Poison. A nice bout of genuine greed gratified--aye, that's the ticket. As well as presenting Peter with the opportunity to get to know "Mr. Jones of Jesus", his would-be competition. Which was hilarious.
Yes, "Mr Jones of Jesus" is one of the oldest Oxford jokes, but it was presented in a way that made me snort all over again.
For the uninitiated, Jesus College was set up with much influence from Welsh clergymen , and from its foundation has always had a high number of Welsh students - the current number is apparently about 15%, Wales making up 5% of the UK's population.
It used to be said that if you went into the quad and shouted "Jones!", half the windows would be flung open and, in similar vein, if you wanted to avoid the proctors catching up with you, would give your name as "Jones of Jesus" - because they'd never track down the right one.
Incdintally, the University actually had its own police force until 2001 - I remember them in the bowler hats at University functions.
But I also (at 16) did not know any Latin and was not 100% certain Harriet had said yes, though the context certainly seemed to suggest she did.
This is very much an Oxford novel. For those unfamiliar with the context, in the graduation ceremony, a proctor will present (in Latin, natch) a group of candidates to be admitted to a particular degree, culminating in asking the question "Placetne?" (more or less "does it please?, with no implication that either a yes or no answer is expected) of the assembled Congregation. Whilst doing this, the proctor takes several paces up and down the aisle, theoretically checking that no member present wishes to object to the granting of a degree to one of the candidates present. I'm pretty sure that the proctor removes his cap whilst doing so. Seeing no objection, the proctor announces "Placet" (it pleases) on behalf of the Congregation, and the ceremony continues.
Caissa adds:
We use Latin in our graduation ceremonies, as well. Members of the Senate and Board of Governors are asked to assent to the granting of degrees with "Placet". My undergraduate degree is written in Latin although my other degrees are all in English.
I was a bit confused about how colleges work. Did the women attend lecturers by male professors as well, or were they entirely taught by the dons? There were a number of men's colleges - were these just for accommodation and dining or did they affect who taught the men in each college?
Depends what you mean by "teaching".
The standard Oxford setup is that lectures are University-wide, and are to a greater or lesser degree optional. So yes, the women students would absolutely have attended lectures by male lecturers, if the topic was of interest, and vice-versa. Indeed, in the book itself, Mr. Pomfret attends a course of lectures by Miss Hillyard. Colleges arrange tutorials, which is where much of the actual teaching happens: groups of two or three students will discuss their work for an hour with a tutor, write essays or whatever for the tutor, and so on. I don't think it was much different in Sayers's day. These tutorials will be with fellows of the college, if one of them has the appropriate experience, or with some external tutor that the college has contracted for if not.
Enforcing academic discipline, residence, behaviour and all the rest is all the responsibility of the colleges. Behave badly, or perform badly in examinations, and your college might rusticate you, or send you down. When you sit university exams, or you graduate, your college has to assert that you have kept residence for the required number of terms, and remain in good status etc.
One theme that runs through the novel is that each person has his 'proper' work. Early in the novel someone raises the idea that since Harriet has been involved in a scandal, she should stop writing novels and perhaps scrub floors. Her reply is that she writes novels well, and she would scrub floors badly, so she will continue to write novels.
Later someone says that the indicator of whether a person is pursuing his proper life work is whether he makes serious mistakes. If he is really passionate about it, he is so focussed that he won't make mistakes.
One theme that runs through the novel is that each person has his 'proper' work. Early in the novel someone raises the idea that since Harriet has been involved in a scandal, she should stop writing novels and perhaps scrub floors. Her reply is that she writes novels well, and she would scrub floors badly, so she will continue to write novels.
There's a similar passage when she's having a discussion at the Gaudy with her contemporary who married a farmer, and is now spending her time managing the farm:
"I'm sure one should do one's own job, however trivial, and not persuade one's self into doing somebody else's, however noble.'"
I think there's some general sense in that - that if people each do what they're good at doing, then things more or less work out OK.
Perhaps Mrs Bendick, the farmer's wife who had been a scholar, is there as Annie's opposite. Mrs Bendick asks whether her husband would have been better off with a different kind of wife - someone like Annie Wilson, perhaps?
I was a bit confused about how colleges work. Did the women attend lecturers by male professors as well, or were they entirely taught by the dons? There were a number of men's colleges - were these just for accommodation and dining or did they affect who taught the men in each college?
Depends what you mean by "teaching".
The standard Oxford setup is that lectures are University-wide, and are to a greater or lesser degree optional. So yes, the women students would absolutely have attended lectures by male lecturers, if the topic was of interest, and vice-versa. Indeed, in the book itself, Mr. Pomfret attends a course of lectures by Miss Hillyard. Colleges arrange tutorials, which is where much of the actual teaching happens: groups of two or three students will discuss their work for an hour with a tutor, write essays or whatever for the tutor, and so on. I don't think it was much different in Sayers's day. These tutorials will be with fellows of the college, if one of them has the appropriate experience, or with some external tutor that the college has contracted for if not.
Enforcing academic discipline, residence, behaviour and all the rest is all the responsibility of the colleges. Behave badly, or perform badly in examinations, and your college might rusticate you, or send you down. When you sit university exams, or you graduate, your college has to assert that you have kept residence for the required number of terms, and remain in good status etc.
Pretty much what I remember from Cambridge in the 1970s. Admission is the responsibility of the colleges, but the overall degree program is organised by the faculty at the university level - as are the main lectures and exams. All students must a member of a college, and live in them for at least part of their course (they may well get to live in college rented houses outside for one year, especially if accommodation is short) Tutorials are either within college, if there is an expert on staff, or by arrangement with other colleges. I was at Girton, but had tutorials at various times with tutors at Trinity and Christ's.
It's very confusing to Canadian and American readers as I don't think any of our universities are organized on this system (not to my knowledge anyway). I have managed to pick up a sense of how the college system works in Oxford and Cambridge over the years mainly by reading novels set there, but I still didn't grasp things as clearly as has been explained in these last few posts, so that is helpful.
Another thing I've never quite understood in Gaudy Night is what exactly constitutes the SCR and the JCR. The terms seem to apply to both a physical space and a group of people, with the SCR referring to the dons -- but also to an actual common room where they meet? However, Harriet is referred to as a member of the SCR -- so would any graduate of Shrewsbury automatically be a member of the SCR if she were in college, even if she is not a don? Is the JCR simply all the undergraduate students -- and/or is it an actual common room for their use?
Hard to believe I have been re-reading this book for nearly 40 years and still haven't got all that straightened out.
Yes, The JCR and the SCR are both groups of people and physical rooms. The JCR is simple -it's the undergraduates, and their common room is a general meeting /sitting room (in my day it was where the TV was).
The SCR is in general the dons - and they have their own meeting /sitting room, where they gather before and after High Table dinner (which may take place everyday, but these days is usually 1 or 2 days a week - other days less formal). If you are an MA - and both Peter and Harriet are - you are entitled to join in, at least occasionally. You get to be an MA by first completing and being awarded an undergraduate degree at Oxford/Cambridge (BA for everyone, traditionally, even the scientists), surviving 3 years and then applying. No exam or work required. After that you are a senior member of the university.
The rest of the academic world tends to know about this, and so parading about an Oxbridge MA as if it's a real further degree is not advised.
The USA and English education systems don't really equate, our A levels cover much of what would be first year degree in the USA, so our undergraduate degrees aren't an exact equivalent.
In the UK there are Masters degrees, taught, with a research element. An MA would normally be in the arts, MSc and MEng in science and engineering. My daughter completed a MEng as an addition to an undergraduate degree, an additional year for which only part of the cohort qualified, others finished after 3 years, achieving a BEng, others switched to an MBA at that point.
I did wonder about MAs, but my experience was science at Imperial College, which only taught scientists, engineers and miners at the time.
We too had a physical SCR (Senior Common Room). It wasn't that special, having been part of a demonstration that occupied it for some reason. The SCR was in the main modern administrative building. The JCR was far more impressive being located in one of the old buildings, even as it lost that designation one summer while I was there.
6. Sayers has sometimes been accused (perhaps unfairly) of falling in love with her own detective character, and creating Harriet Vane as a sort of self-insert character to fall in love with and marry Lord Peter. What do you think of Harriet as a character – especially as the main point-of-view character, as so much of the novel takes place in her head?
I think in Wimsey, or at least the Wimsey of this book, Sayer's is playing with trying to work out what her own ideal husband would be, and in the process falling in love with him a little. Certainly a lot of the other characters seem to be there to illustrate the different sorts of marriage an intelligent woman in the first half of the 20th century could have had, rather than move the plot forward.
One thing I find interesting is that Harriet, who is about thirty-two, feels herself to be middle-aged, and therefore not susceptible to the charms or otherwise of Mr Pomfret. Maybe it's now being in my late sixties, but I kept on wanting to tell her she was still young.
In England an MA can also be fully a research degree.
And just to confuse things, in Scotland an MA is an undergraduate degree, which can take either 3 or 4 years to work for. When I was at Aberdeen a three year MA was a general degree, while an honours degree, which are those divided into various classes (1st, 2nd, 2:1 2:2 or, horrors, 3rd) took 4 years. I don’t hear of people doing a general 3 year MA these days, so maybe it has fallen by the wayside and it is all 4 years honours courses: having two children in the throes of higher education, don’t remember seeing general degrees offered in the university literature. And just to confuse things, my daughter’s uni (Edinburgh Napier) will, I trust, be awarding her a BA.
1. How well did this book work for you as a mystery novel? Were you engaged with the mystery? Surprised and satisfied by the resolution? What worked and what didn’t, for you – evaluating this primarily as a mystery novel?
It was not my first read, so I knew who did it. This time I noted how Sayers was introducing references to Annie, quietly, unobtrusively – it’s there but the reader doesn’t notice. (My salutations to Mili who worked it out – I think most readers don’t!). I think the mystery is fine – but personally I find the romance plot and the philosophical debates more engaging. Surely the strength of the book is that it does all three, very effectively.
2. Some readers find this book frustrating because it doesn’t seem to them to be primarily a mystery novel. Did you find the Peter/Harriet romance plot more central than the mystery – and how did it work for you as a love story?
One of literature’s great love stories, in my book. The meeting of two forceful and intelligent people both of whom value the life of the mind, professional independence and their own way – yet it works, eventually.
3. Much of both the external and internal conflict in this novel turns on the question of whether personal loyalties should be allowed to supersede professional ones – this conflict drives both the mystery and the romance plots, in different ways. How good a job do you think the novel does of addressing (and resolving?) this conflict?
As Mili says, no-one has solved the problem of the rival demands of family and professional responsibilities. But the characters in Gaudy Night represent a wide range of opinions on the matter. The problem persists – more for women than men still. Maternity leave has helped, but the problem remains. It certainly dogged my career – and for many of you too, I’ll bet.
4. The novel is now 85 years old. What parts of it feel dated to you?
Much of it is surprisingly undated – undergraduate love affairs, Oxford itself, many of the debates in the book – they’re still current. However the discussion about the Oxbridge MA reminded me that Sayers’ Oxford is much less complicated in terms of academic progression, if that’s the right word, than today. Very few of the dons are ‘Dr’ – male or female. The PhD (DPhil in Oxford) is a fairly new invention; even in the 1970s a few of the older dons were Mr or Miss still. But you wouldn’t get a look-in for an Oxbridge academic post of any kind today without a doctorate – and a very good one at that.
Comments
I think this does work as a mystery novel, as the clues are there for us to pick up on as we go along. It also works on lots of other levels too, are there ever circumstances where suppressing the truth is the right thing to do for one.
I am very sorry for Annie. We have the whole her husband married beneath him idea which sounds so patronising. Annie might have been working class, but the novel would have been better (it's not one of my favourite ones of Sayer) if she'd been his intellectual equal but forced due to her own education and raising children to do a menial job. I find the way the dons treat her and the other scouts pretty grim to be honest. This may be coloured by having a lecturer ask me when I was at college if I'd be happier ironing my husbands shirts than trying to follow an academic career. He was making assumptions based not just on my sex, but my accent and schooling.
I'll follow up some of the other questions later, but I think Jerry is probably my favourite character.
I continue really to warm to the importance of the idea of marriage as a marriage of equals, and I love the way Harriet and Peter are both fully realised and such good foils for each other.
I think the whole exploration of the roles and expectations for men and women is very thought provoking, even in the 21st century, however much we (men?) might like to think the question is now resolved.
Also I think it is an excellent book on the question of vocation and Harriet's wonderings about being a writer or an academic, along with the pressures on her to confirm to particular gender expectations strike a deep chord with me.
My two favourites, I would say, are (in order) Busman's Honeymoon and Murder Must Advertise (which includes an oblique reference to Peter proposing to Harriet).
I love the exchange between Wimsey and the Dean at dinner and Peter and Harriet's punting interlude.
It works very well for me. I like that, for once, it's not a murder -- I enjoy other types of mysteries, and the whole extended campaign of harrassment/revenge Annie carries out means that the mystery is being solved while it's still happening. The resolution did take me by surprise, not just when I first read it but the first couple of times, since I have the delightful ability to reread mysteries with a gap of a few years and not remember whodunit. On this latest re-reading, what struck me most was how carefully and well Sayers sowed the clues. On first meeting Miss DeVine and on first meeting Annie, we are given, in conversation, much of the information that we later learn is crucial to the solution of the mystery. And every time Annie appears or is mentioned, there's another little piece of information about her or her children (even their classically-inspired names!) that's dropped in to fit into the puzzle.
HOWEVER ... I have one huge quibble with the mystery plot. It makes NO SENSE WHATSOEVER that at the end of the novel, especially when Peter has to go away and is worried for Harriet's safety, that he does not tell her that Annie is the suspect. There's no in-book reason for him not to tell her at this point -- any desire for her to "work it out herself" would and should be superseded by the concern for her and Miss DeVine's safety. It seems to me like it's only done to prolong the mystery for the reader, as we are so closely in Harriet's POV in this novel that if she knew, we could know and lose the suspense. It's not just unlikely but fairly irresponsible of Peter not to tell her who he suspects before he leaves Oxford for that meeting.
I find Annie a very sympathetic villain, more sympathetic, I think, than Sayers intended me to. When she goes into her big final monologue/rant at the members of the SCR, I have to remind myself of the crimes Annie herself committed, especially her persecution of Miss Newland -- otherwise I find myself sympathizing largely with her! The pursuit of pure intellectual truth is a lofty goal, for sure, but how much does it mean to a woman with two children to support and a disgraced, depressed husband to deal with?
I agree with @Sarasa that
There's tremendous classism here, which I think is not just the Shrewsbury dons' classism but Sayers' own -- the scouts are always portrayed as unintelligent and mildly ridiculous or at least silly. This is good for the mystery as it keeps Annie well in the background as a suspect because she's never taken seriously -- but I do find it jarring, in a novel that is so much about women being treated as men's equals, that that clearly only applies to middle and upper-class educated women, not to the class of women who become scouts in Oxfort colleges. This is also my answer to my own question #4 -- as with Sayers' anti-semitism in Whose Body (for example), her classism here is very much "of her time" but her inability to question it and move beyond it is disappointing to me as a 20th/21st century reader.
Yes, absolutely. Padgett, for example, as a man of the servant class is pure comic relief for most of the novel. One note I always find interesting here is that Padgett is generally portrayed as a positive, likeable, trustworthy character, though he is opposed to women's rights and women's education -- and at one point he is quoted as saying that "what this country needs is a Hitler." Always interesting to see attitudes towards Hitler in novels written in the 1930s. It reminded me of doing research in a local newspaper for the year 1925 and coming across a column titled, "Does Newfoundland Need a Mussolini?"
Padgett is definitely an odd character. As Trudy says, in some ways he is quite charming, but then there's the" 'itler" remark - when GN was written, no-one knew how bad Hitler would get, and he certainly had sympathy from many people in Britain (famously, Lord Northcliffe, for one), and I think that is the key. It sounds far more incongruous to post-WW2 readers than it would have at the time.
Am I right in thinking that Padgett was a college porter? There's quite a strong strand in Oxford-set fiction of seeing porters as authoritarians - see (in particular) the 'Endeavour' tv shows and (from memory) the tv version of Porterhouse Blue. If I'm right in identifying that strand, then an admiration for the German strongman isn't necessarily that surprising.
I must say one of my favorite bits was the meet up of Harriet and St. George. Gherkins' absolute mortification about spilling Peter's romantic past to his current object of love makes me laugh every time!
There is a bit where Harriet muses that Peter is treating her as an equal as his principal concern isn't her safety, but the fact as she's promised to investigate the disturbances she should continue to do so. The assumption is that if Harriet was a man, this is what Peter would have done. If a man I cared about expressed a concern about my welfare when I was doing something dangerous I wouldn't assume they were saying that because I was a woman, but because they were genuinely worried about my safety.
I didn't find it in the slightest weird, in context. Given the absence of a local armourer able to fir Miss Vane with a gorget, a thick leather dog collar seems like the only feasible and expedient way of acquiring some protection.
I am still amused by "Mr Jones of Jesus".
As far as Annie goes, I find her very believable. Sympathetic? That's more difficult. I find her opinions reprehensible, even adjusting for the era, but they're not so uncommon. And I've met contemporary women with opinions not too far from Annie's. So how much do I view Annie as a person with frankly evil opinions who is largely the author of her own fate, and how much do I view her as a victim of circumstance? I don't think I can disentangle the two, because Annie's antediluvian opinions are surely a product of her upbringing and environment.
And of course, Annie's position is logically nonsense. Her fraudulent husband was exposed, to his subsequent ruin, by the scholarship of a woman, on which grounds Annie resents female scholarship. But had Annie had her way - had women not been permitted to play any part in academic discourse, then Miss de Vine wouldn't have exposed her husband, but in all probability, some male scholar would have done.
As to the previous point -- I agree with Harriet that Peter is treating her as an equal by allowing her to expose herself to danger rather than trying to protect her -- I think that's a very important key to what finally makes her able to accept his proposal. But leaving her at Oxford at the point where he KNOWS Annie is almost certainly the guilty party, and he is very concerned Annie may strike again, possibly fatally -- frankly, that goes beyond allowing Harried to expose herself to danger. Peter is actually putting her in danger, and Miss DeVine as well, by not telling them at this point that he suspects Annie. He tells them to be careful, but not who they need to be careful of, which is reckless -- to a degree that I think is out of character for Peter and not warranted by the situation, which is why I think it's only there to make the novel work as a novel -- to keep the reader wondering whodunit.
1. How well did this book work for you as a mystery novel? Were you engaged with the mystery? Surprised and satisfied by the resolution? What worked and what didn’t, for you – evaluating this primarily as a mystery novel?
I enjoyed the mystery, but worked out it was Annie before the end, so thought the clues were a bit too obvious. Harriet was working from the theory that it was one of the single staff, as people back then believed a single, childless woman, especially one who didn't have sex with men, might be driven insane. Perhaps readers in 1935 would also be focused on these charaters? Sayers does not seem like the type of person to agree with this view and I suspected there would be a twist and Harriet was being blinded by her own worries about whether to marry or not. So I narrowed the suspects down to a character who was married, engaged or had a boyfriend. Most of those characters were ruled out due to alibis. I thought the perpetrator might be Miss. Chilperic, but they made a big deal of her fiances name being Jacob Peppercorn and this did not match the name or life circumstances in Miss. De Vine's story of the man she had caught out. I added up the clues such as Annie's husband having died and possibly being mental ill or criminal, Harriet talking negatively about marrying a bad husband in front of Annie after which she became more of a target, and the more obvious clues later in the book when Wimsey names the eldest child, who had the same name as Annie's eldest, Beatrice and mentioned there was a second child. I agree with others that Wimsey should have warned Harriet about Annie, but he did give her the very obvious clues and I think trusted her to work them out/wanted to give her the opportunity to solve the mystery to show he considered her an equal. But Harriet was too focused on the perpetrator likely being a deranged single woman and somebody who was educated, due to the Latin quote.
I also suspected the Vane/De Vine names would have some part to play, although I didn't pick up that that was why Wimsey confirmed Harriet's middle name started with a D. I wonder if Sayers had read the 1861 novel 'East Lynne', which has a rather sensationalist story line involving characters called Isabel Vane and Madame Vine. I don't want to give away the fairly obvious twist in that novel, but the similar names in that book also are integral to the plot.
2. Some readers find this book frustrating because it doesn’t seem to them to be primarily a mystery novel. Did you find the Peter/Harriet romance plot more central than the mystery – and how did it work for you as a love story?
I liked the love story except that I don't really like stories where a character, usually a man, pursues another character for years after repeatedly being told no. However, it did seem like Harriet treated Peter as a bit of a backup boyfriend and Miss. De Vine was correct in her judgement that Harriet had not made it obvious enough she did not want to marry him. I still felt like Peter loved Harriet more than she loved him by the time she accepted the proposal. It sounds like Peter was a bit of a sugar daddy to women all over Europe and it wasn't clear whether those relationships ceased once he met Harriet, so it is understandable if Harriet questioned how genuine he was. Just realised I answered question 7!
3. Much of both the external and internal conflict in this novel turns on the question of whether personal loyalties should be allowed to supersede professional ones – this conflict drives both the mystery and the romance plots, in different ways. How good a job do you think the novel does of addressing (and resolving?) this conflict?
I don't think the novel or anyone has resolved this problem. Most people who marry and have children or who have other caring responsibilities have to balance these with work/professional responsibilities or choose one or the other if possible.
6. As well as being written in 1935, the novel is very deeply rooted in the culture of Oxford at that time. Did you feel like there were aspects of the story you didn’t quite get, or important references that were obscure to you, because of details of time and place that you didn’t understand? (And if so, is there anything you’d like to ask other readers about, to see if they can add to your understanding?)
I was a bit confused about how colleges work. Did the women attend lecturers by male professors as well, or were they entirely taught by the dons? There were a number of men's colleges - were these just for accommodation and dining or did they affect who taught the men in each college?
8. What about the other characters, other than Peter and Harriet? This novel has a large cast – do you have a favourite?
I liked Bunter - I would marry him over Peter 😉, but mainly based on the T.V. series as he was barely in this novel.
9. Is Annie a believable villain? Do you think Sayers sympathizes with her, and/or expects the reader to? Did you have sympathy for her?
I found Annie believable. I felt her situation to be sympathetic, having married a man she thought would provide security and a higher social position than her birth family, the circumstances would have been very difficult. And she did seem to genuinely love her husband as well. However her actions were a total overreaction and it seemed she probably could not have been a nice person even if life had turned out better for her. She reminded me of an internet troll who tries to bully others to suicide over what she did to Newman. And I certainly had no sympathy for her trying to frame Miss. De Vine or kill anybody. She did make some good points about class and the wealthier women not understanding the position and life challenges of working class women in her rant after being caught.
11. If this was your first time reading this novel, how did you feel about it in general? Do you want to go back and read the earlier Wimsey books, or read on to Busman’s Honeymoon to find out what happens next?
I still prefer Agatha Christie, but may go and read some more of the series if they are available at my library. Can I assume Peter and Harriet's marriage turned out to be happy as I hope it does? I feel sad that they are about to live through World War 2. Does the series extend into that time period?
The earlier Wimsey books are more like Christie's intellectual puzzles.
(I'll answer the proper questions when I've finished rereading the book, but I'm only part way through and it's a while since I last read it. This is one of those book series I've been reading since I was a teenager.)
The only canonical Sayers glimpse into Peter and Harriet's marriage is the novel Busman's Honeymoon, which, as the title suggests, takes place during their honeymoon, and a couple of short stories which show them married with a family. They certainly do seem to be happy.
My own answer to the question of where Gaudy Night fits in the Wimsey canon is that I feel on this rereading more than ever that Gaudy Night and Busman's Honeymoon need to be read together, not just for the pleasure of bringing the love story to completion, but because I think Busman's Honeymoon attempts to answer the question that Gaudy Night poses about the competing claims of personal and professional loyalty.
Throughout GN, Harriet worries constantly about whether she could ever be truly independent and treated as an equal if married to Peter -- whether any woman can be a full equal in marriage. The only good example she sees during the course of GN is the old classmate who works alongside her archeologist husband, but most of Harriet's role models seem to be single women like the Shrewsbury dons.
When she finally does make the leap and marry Peter, the conflict between personal and professional loyalty arises almost immediately in BH -- however, it's not Peter posing a threat to Harriet's independence but the reverse, when [text hidden to conceal a very vague reference to something that happens in BH]
Yes, those were the short stories I mentioned; couldn't remember the titles.
Did Sayers just lose interest in Parker as a character (he's a great character in the earlier books) or should we assume there was some cooling in his and Peter's friendship after Parker was involved in Harriet's arrest in Strong Poison?
Likewise, Harriet's two good friends from Strong Poison, Sylvia and Eiluned (who are coded as a lesbian couple in a very low-key way in that book, I think) don't make a reappearance when she talks about and sees her London friends in Gaudy Night, and by Busman's Honeymoon
(Again, spoiler-tagged for minor plot spoilers in Busman's Honeymoon, but even if you choose to avoid the spoilers, the point remains that people who were very important in Peter's and Harriet's lives earlier go unmentioned in the later books at points where you would expect old friends to show up, and I never know whether Sayers got careless and forgot abou them, or whether she meant to imply that those friendships had faded over time).
The book held up well as a mystery novel. At times though I wondered which was the plot and which was the sub-plot. I found myself caring more about Peter and Harriet’s relationship than I did about the mystery at times. I feared their relationship was going to remain unresolved . I was very pleased with her, placet.
2. Some readers find this book frustrating because it doesn’t seem to them to be primarily a mystery novel. Did you find the Peter/Harriet romance plot more central than the mystery – and how did it work for you as a love story?
I didn’t find this frustrating. See my answer to question 1.
3. Much of both the external and internal conflict in this novel turns on the question of whether personal loyalties should be allowed to supersede professional ones – this conflict drives both the mystery and the romance plots, in different ways. How good a job do you think the novel does of addressing (and resolving?) this conflict?
4. The novel is now 85 years old. What parts of it feel dated to you?
My training is as an historian. I find it rather easy to slip into historical novels. I enjoyed the various aspects that were referring to the state of Europe at the time. Attitudes, amenities and class distinctions seemed to accurately reflect the time period.
5. As well as being written in 1935, the novel is very deeply rooted in the culture of Oxford at that time. Did you feel like there were aspects of the story you didn’t quite get, or important references that were obscure to you, because of details of time and place that you didn’t understand? (And if so, is there anything you’d like to ask other readers about, to see if they can add to your understanding?)
I have spent my last 40 years studying and working on university campuses, albeit not Oxford. Occasionally, the language seemed foreign ex. Scout for servant but most issues that were important could be sussed out by context.
6. Sayers has sometimes been accused (perhaps unfairly) of falling in love with her own detective character, and creating Harriet Vane as a sort of self-insert character to fall in love with and marry Lord Peter. What do you think of Harriet as a character – especially as the main point-of-view character, as so much of the novel takes place in her head?
I found Harriet frustrating in that I could not understand why she did not simply get on with it and accept Peter’s proposal. I liked that the story was told from her pov rather than Wimsey’s. I also liked how Wimsey remained off-stage for half of the book. An effective theatrical device.
7. Is Peter’s pursuit of Harriet over the last 5 years (as summarized in this novel, or as depicted in Strong Poison and Have His Carcase, if you’ve read those) fair and respectful? Or is he an entitled man who refuses to take No for an answer and doesn’t fully understand the concept of consent?
I have only read this book so I believe his “pursuit” was respectful.
8. What about the other characters, other than Peter and Harriet? This novel has a large cast – do you have a favourite?
9.
Peter's nephew was probably my favourite for his unabashed chutzpah.
10. Is Annie a believable villain? Do you think Sayers sympathizes with her, and/or expects the reader to? Did you have sympathy for her?
Although, I abhorred Annie’s attitudes towards women, they were reflective, in general, of her time, class and place. I am not sure how Sayers felt about her but I sympathised with her. Academia is not so important that one should ruin another’s life over pursuit for the truth.
10. If you have read Sayers’ other Lord Peter Wimsey novels, where does this fit into the canon for you? Is it one of your favourites, or otherwise? Why?
First Sayers novel for me.
11. If this was your first time reading this novel, how did you feel about it in general? Do you want to go back and read the earlier Wimsey books, or read on to Busman’s Honeymoon to find out what happens next? I plan to read Busman’s Honeymoon soon.
12. If this was a reread for you – particularly if it’s an old favourite you’ve read more than once – how was the experience of coming back to it different from a first read? Has your perception of the story and the characters changed over time?
First read.
I think Harriet's reluctance is easier to understand if you're read Strong Poison and Have His Carcase. This also speaks to @Mili's point that:
Although Harriet certainly has sent some mixed messages over the years -- both in the earlier books and this one -- I think Peter has done a bit of the "relentlessly pursue her until she says yes" during those same years. He admits to this in his big speech near the end of Gaudy Nightwhen he says that he had been incredibly arrogant to pursue her when she was at such a low point in her life; he apologizes for that arrogance, asks if they can start afresh, and promises that if she says No at Oxford, he will take No as her final answer. So I think he does recognize that he has been doing that "relentless pursuit" game and is trying to move past that and be better.
In response to the point in the hidden text
I think Harriet’s conversation with Miss de Vine answers this point.
Peter does warn Harriet of the danger to herself and Miss de Vine, and in the circumstances not naming the suspect doesn’t AFAICT make any difference. He also put in place arrangements to warn Miss de Vine via the Dean, but that fell through
@Caissa , it strikes me as a great pity that this was your first Sayers novel. When I was in college, my girlfriend expressed an interest in reading the novels, and I made her read the Harriet Vane novels in order, steadfastly refusing to tell her how the relationship turns out. Well, until after she read GN because she got to the end and, not knowing Latin, wanted to know whether Harriet said yes. (She suspected it from the surrounding text, but wanted confirmation...and a translation.) She then thanked me for making her read them in order. It adds so much to GN to do so.
Interesting - I've never seen Harriet's messages as at all mixed. I think she's quite clear in the earlier books that were she and Peter to be two ordinary people who had met in some ordinary way, then she'd have no hesitation about saying 'yes'. And as one of the dons makes clear in this book (Miss de Vine, I think), she could have sent Peter away in five minutes, had she wanted to. (Ah - I see @BroJames has quoted this passage above.)
Peter's pursuit of Harriet may have been relentless, but he has scrupulously avoided applying any sort of pressure, and flat-out refuses to accept any kind of obligation or gratitude on Harriet's part. And his proposals, whilst continual, are all rather pro-forma and expect to be rejected. They're "I don't suppose ...?" and "Num ...?"
So I don't see this as hounding in any way - rather an acceptance that he knows they have these unresolved status issues, but he's reaffirming his interest, and promising that he has no interest in pursuing other prospects.
Someone further up in the discussion questioned whether Peter was still keeping his various European mistresses during the time he was wooing Harriet. I believe this is answered in the biographical sketch by Uncle Paul, which is included in some editions. Uncle Paul says Peter has "a foolish, pleasant habit of keeping to one woman at a time" [quoting from memory, may not be exact] suggesting that he has not been with anyone else since initially declaring his love for Harriet. I think this is borne out by Jerry telling Harriet that the story about Peter and the Viennese singer was six years ago - which would be before he met Harriet.
This is very much an Oxford novel. For those unfamiliar with the context, in the graduation ceremony, a proctor will present (in Latin, natch) a group of candidates to be admitted to a particular degree, culminating in asking the question "Placetne?" (more or less "does it please?, with no implication that either a yes or no answer is expected) of the assembled Congregation. Whilst doing this, the proctor takes several paces up and down the aisle, theoretically checking that no member present wishes to object to the granting of a degree to one of the candidates present. I'm pretty sure that the proctor removes his cap whilst doing so. Seeing no objection, the proctor announces "Placet" (it pleases) on behalf of the Congregation, and the ceremony continues.
The common belief is that the way that someone objects to the granting of a degree is to pluck the sleeve of the proctor as he passes; the proctors wear a gown with sleeves of black velvet. (See the final paragraph of the book.) This particular belief, like many associated with Oxford's traditions, seems to be apocryphal; to my knowledge, it first appears in print in the 1850s novel "The Adventures of Mr. Verdant Green" by Cuthbert Bede.
The mess is complicated by the presence of her dead lover, who apparently treated her in the most sexist and belittling ways he could think up--leading her to almost complete disbelief in Peter's ability to be attracted to her as a person-of-value, rather than just an object-to-be-rescued (damsel in distress) or person-to-be-patronized-from-on-high. I'm not saying that Peter does indeed do as much of that as he seems to accuse himself of; but there is very little chance that ANY overture from Peter is going to be received in any other way, given her past history. At Oxford, they are finally standing on level ground. Slightly in her favor, in fact, as it is a women's college and she is an alumna of it, which he is not. And pretty much all the characters treat her "colorful past" as a matter of no moment compared to her present work (Annie being a notable exception). Oxford gave them a chance to start again.
I do regret those chessmen. They were so lovely, even if only in description. And they gave Harriet the opportunity to make a moderately costly (to her ego) apologetic gesture to Peter for raking up the whole bitter wrangle about his role in rescuing her in Strong Poison. A nice bout of genuine greed gratified--aye, that's the ticket. As well as presenting Peter with the opportunity to get to know "Mr. Jones of Jesus", his would-be competition. Which was hilarious.
For the uninitiated, Jesus College was set up with much influence from Welsh clergymen , and from its foundation has always had a high number of Welsh students - the current number is apparently about 15%, Wales making up 5% of the UK's population.
It used to be said that if you went into the quad and shouted "Jones!", half the windows would be flung open and, in similar vein, if you wanted to avoid the proctors catching up with you, would give your name as "Jones of Jesus" - because they'd never track down the right one.
Incdintally, the University actually had its own police force until 2001 - I remember them in the bowler hats at University functions.
Depends what you mean by "teaching".
The standard Oxford setup is that lectures are University-wide, and are to a greater or lesser degree optional. So yes, the women students would absolutely have attended lectures by male lecturers, if the topic was of interest, and vice-versa. Indeed, in the book itself, Mr. Pomfret attends a course of lectures by Miss Hillyard. Colleges arrange tutorials, which is where much of the actual teaching happens: groups of two or three students will discuss their work for an hour with a tutor, write essays or whatever for the tutor, and so on. I don't think it was much different in Sayers's day. These tutorials will be with fellows of the college, if one of them has the appropriate experience, or with some external tutor that the college has contracted for if not.
Enforcing academic discipline, residence, behaviour and all the rest is all the responsibility of the colleges. Behave badly, or perform badly in examinations, and your college might rusticate you, or send you down. When you sit university exams, or you graduate, your college has to assert that you have kept residence for the required number of terms, and remain in good status etc.
Later someone says that the indicator of whether a person is pursuing his proper life work is whether he makes serious mistakes. If he is really passionate about it, he is so focussed that he won't make mistakes.
There's a similar passage when she's having a discussion at the Gaudy with her contemporary who married a farmer, and is now spending her time managing the farm:
"I'm sure one should do one's own job, however trivial, and not persuade one's self into doing somebody else's, however noble.'"
I think there's some general sense in that - that if people each do what they're good at doing, then things more or less work out OK.
Perhaps Mrs Bendick, the farmer's wife who had been a scholar, is there as Annie's opposite. Mrs Bendick asks whether her husband would have been better off with a different kind of wife - someone like Annie Wilson, perhaps?
Pretty much what I remember from Cambridge in the 1970s. Admission is the responsibility of the colleges, but the overall degree program is organised by the faculty at the university level - as are the main lectures and exams. All students must a member of a college, and live in them for at least part of their course (they may well get to live in college rented houses outside for one year, especially if accommodation is short) Tutorials are either within college, if there is an expert on staff, or by arrangement with other colleges. I was at Girton, but had tutorials at various times with tutors at Trinity and Christ's.
But it is confusing.
It's very confusing to Canadian and American readers as I don't think any of our universities are organized on this system (not to my knowledge anyway). I have managed to pick up a sense of how the college system works in Oxford and Cambridge over the years mainly by reading novels set there, but I still didn't grasp things as clearly as has been explained in these last few posts, so that is helpful.
Another thing I've never quite understood in Gaudy Night is what exactly constitutes the SCR and the JCR. The terms seem to apply to both a physical space and a group of people, with the SCR referring to the dons -- but also to an actual common room where they meet? However, Harriet is referred to as a member of the SCR -- so would any graduate of Shrewsbury automatically be a member of the SCR if she were in college, even if she is not a don? Is the JCR simply all the undergraduate students -- and/or is it an actual common room for their use?
Hard to believe I have been re-reading this book for nearly 40 years and still haven't got all that straightened out.
The SCR is in general the dons - and they have their own meeting /sitting room, where they gather before and after High Table dinner (which may take place everyday, but these days is usually 1 or 2 days a week - other days less formal). If you are an MA - and both Peter and Harriet are - you are entitled to join in, at least occasionally. You get to be an MA by first completing and being awarded an undergraduate degree at Oxford/Cambridge (BA for everyone, traditionally, even the scientists), surviving 3 years and then applying. No exam or work required. After that you are a senior member of the university.
The rest of the academic world tends to know about this, and so parading about an Oxbridge MA as if it's a real further degree is not advised.
In the UK there are Masters degrees, taught, with a research element. An MA would normally be in the arts, MSc and MEng in science and engineering. My daughter completed a MEng as an addition to an undergraduate degree, an additional year for which only part of the cohort qualified, others finished after 3 years, achieving a BEng, others switched to an MBA at that point.
We too had a physical SCR (Senior Common Room). It wasn't that special, having been part of a demonstration that occupied it for some reason. The SCR was in the main modern administrative building. The JCR was far more impressive being located in one of the old buildings, even as it lost that designation one summer while I was there.
I think in Wimsey, or at least the Wimsey of this book, Sayer's is playing with trying to work out what her own ideal husband would be, and in the process falling in love with him a little. Certainly a lot of the other characters seem to be there to illustrate the different sorts of marriage an intelligent woman in the first half of the 20th century could have had, rather than move the plot forward.
One thing I find interesting is that Harriet, who is about thirty-two, feels herself to be middle-aged, and therefore not susceptible to the charms or otherwise of Mr Pomfret. Maybe it's now being in my late sixties, but I kept on wanting to tell her she was still young.
And just to confuse things, in Scotland an MA is an undergraduate degree, which can take either 3 or 4 years to work for. When I was at Aberdeen a three year MA was a general degree, while an honours degree, which are those divided into various classes (1st, 2nd, 2:1 2:2 or, horrors, 3rd) took 4 years. I don’t hear of people doing a general 3 year MA these days, so maybe it has fallen by the wayside and it is all 4 years honours courses: having two children in the throes of higher education, don’t remember seeing general degrees offered in the university literature. And just to confuse things, my daughter’s uni (Edinburgh Napier) will, I trust, be awarding her a BA.
1. How well did this book work for you as a mystery novel? Were you engaged with the mystery? Surprised and satisfied by the resolution? What worked and what didn’t, for you – evaluating this primarily as a mystery novel?
It was not my first read, so I knew who did it. This time I noted how Sayers was introducing references to Annie, quietly, unobtrusively – it’s there but the reader doesn’t notice. (My salutations to Mili who worked it out – I think most readers don’t!). I think the mystery is fine – but personally I find the romance plot and the philosophical debates more engaging. Surely the strength of the book is that it does all three, very effectively.
2. Some readers find this book frustrating because it doesn’t seem to them to be primarily a mystery novel. Did you find the Peter/Harriet romance plot more central than the mystery – and how did it work for you as a love story?
One of literature’s great love stories, in my book. The meeting of two forceful and intelligent people both of whom value the life of the mind, professional independence and their own way – yet it works, eventually.
3. Much of both the external and internal conflict in this novel turns on the question of whether personal loyalties should be allowed to supersede professional ones – this conflict drives both the mystery and the romance plots, in different ways. How good a job do you think the novel does of addressing (and resolving?) this conflict?
As Mili says, no-one has solved the problem of the rival demands of family and professional responsibilities. But the characters in Gaudy Night represent a wide range of opinions on the matter. The problem persists – more for women than men still. Maternity leave has helped, but the problem remains. It certainly dogged my career – and for many of you too, I’ll bet.
4. The novel is now 85 years old. What parts of it feel dated to you?
Much of it is surprisingly undated – undergraduate love affairs, Oxford itself, many of the debates in the book – they’re still current. However the discussion about the Oxbridge MA reminded me that Sayers’ Oxford is much less complicated in terms of academic progression, if that’s the right word, than today. Very few of the dons are ‘Dr’ – male or female. The PhD (DPhil in Oxford) is a fairly new invention; even in the 1970s a few of the older dons were Mr or Miss still. But you wouldn’t get a look-in for an Oxbridge academic post of any kind today without a doctorate – and a very good one at that.