Book Review of Kerry Greenwood's Unnatural Habits

Unnatural Habits by Kerry Greenwood

On her way out for cocktails in the iffy Melbourne neighborhood called Little Lon, Phryne Fisher rescues a young woman who is about to be attacked by three menacing thugs. The woman, Polly Kettle, tells Phryne she is a reporter on a hot story about three young, unmarried, pregnant women who disappeared from a nursing home where they were waiting to deliver their babies. During most of their pregnancy, the women had been made to atone for their sins by being forced to work in the Magdalen Laundry at the Abbotsford convent.

The day after the Little Lon adventure, Polly is kidnapped, and Phryne's friend, police detective Jack Robinson, asks Phryne to help find Polly, since Phryne is better suited to wheedle information from the brothelkeepers Polly had been asking about the missing women. Phryne's investigation takes her from the brothels to the slum home of one of the victims, to the (worse yet, to Phryne) middle-class homes of other victims, to the nightmarish Magdalen Laundry, and more. Even for the normally unflappable Phryne, what she learns about what can happen to unprotected young women is shocking and disheartening.

Although this story has as much verve as any Phryne Fisher novel, it tackles serious subjects in an affecting way. Young women who became pregnant in the 1920s were often rejected by their families and forced to go into unpaid servitude in convents, working in dreadful conditions and subject to whatever discipline the nuns wished to apply. Women had few legal rights and protections and could lose their freedom in many ways, as illustrated vividly in this novel. Phryne can't right all the wrongs of Melbourne society, but she's determined to help as many women as she can and, almost as important, mete out rough and suitable justice to their victimizers.

I confess that whenever I read a Phryne Fisher mystery (this is the 19th in the series), I squirm a little, because Phryne is just too good to be true. She's rich, beautiful, brilliant, able to outwit any villain and conquer any opponent. She collects devoted friends and dependents (doctors, society do-gooders, cabmen, wharfies, street urchins, assorted denizens of the demimonde; you name it) who enthusiastically become part of her detective team. Whenever Phryne needs help, there is always somebody ready to hand with the necessary resources who is eager to spring into action. Her allure is so overwhelming that even her lover's wife is her friend. And anyone who opposes her fears her––or is taught to fear her. Could there be such a superwoman today, let alone 90 years ago?

What I have to remind myself is that the Phryne character is a feminist fantasy figure, wielding a sword of social justice. And what's wrong with that? James Bond is a fantasy figure (of a different sort, obviously!) and nobody seems to mind that one bit. So I resolve to go with the flow and enjoy this fantasy figure and her fantasy life––which, in this book as always, includes colorful, extra-legal and oh-so-deserved punishments for bad guys; socialist workers who treat Phryne as a valued comrade; and hookers with hearts of gold.

Speaking of fantasy, this novel continues the Phryne tradition of lots of descriptions of period clothes, perfumes, hairstyles and, best of all, food and drink. I'm always heading for the refrigerator and liquor cabinet when I read a Phryne Fisher book. This time around, we're told of a classic book, Cooling Cups and Dainty Drinks, by William Terrington, published in London in 1869. Take a look at the book here. This is one peculiar recipe book. Here's one of the recipes:

Ponche á la Parisienne: Boil 1/2 pint of water and 1 lb. of sugar; when it comes to the thread, add the oleo-saccharum of 1 lemon [I've discovered that is a sweet oil made from citrus peel and sugar] and juice of 2, 1-1/2 pint of brandy, and 1/2 pint of rum; let this heat, but not boil; pour it in a hot bowl; set fire to it; stir it well, and pour into glasses while blazing.

I think I'll choose a more traditional Phryne favorite, like a White Lady (2 oz. gin, 1/2 oz. Cointreau, 1/2 oz. lemon juice and 1 egg white, shaken with ice and strained into a chilled cocktail glass). I suggest you do the same and raise a glass to what might be the best Phryne Fisher book of the series to date.

Unnatural Habits will be published in hardcover by Poisoned Pen Press on January 1, 2013. It is currently available in audiobook form from Audible.com.

Note: I received a free publisher's review copy of Unnatural Habits. A version of this review may appear on Amazon and other sites under my user names there.

Happy Hour

Some detectives are devotés of ale and beer, like Colin Dexter's Inspector Morse, Reginald Hill's Andy Dalziel and Rex Stout's Nero Wolfe. Others, like Lord Peter Wimsey, are wine experts. The whisky-drinking PI is a cliché of the hardboiled subgenre. The troubled alcoholic detective, like Lawrence Block's Matt Scudder, Ian Rankin's John Rebus and Jo Nesbø's Harry Hole, has become commonplace.

But what about a detective who just enjoys a good cocktail––and who might give us some tips?

Nick and Nora Charles

I have to start my quest with Dashiell Hammett's Nick and Nora Charles. No characters in detective fiction are better known for drinking cocktails. In the film of The Thin Man, Martinis and Rye Highballs seem to be their tipples of choice. The Charleses have a glass in hand even more in the book than in the movie, but Hammett has the frustrating habit of referring to "a drink" or "a cocktail" rather than enlightening us, mixology-wise.

We do get the occasional tantalizing references to Scotch and a soda siphon and, elsewhere, to a cocktail shaker, but that's about it. It appears we'll have to look for inspiration elsewhere.

James Bond

On screen, James Bond is legendary for his shaken-not-stirred Martinis. In Ian Fleming's books, he does drink a lot of Martinis; oddly, sometimes with gin, sometimes with vodka. I don't know anybody in real life who goes from one kind to the other. You're either a real Martini drinker––in which case you make it with gin (80-proof, not 90-proof jet fuel)––or you have a fear of flavor, in which case you make it with vodka.

But here's where it gets truly strange. One drink that Agent 007 orders in Casino Royale is a complete invention, made with gin and vodka. Today, we call it the Vesper:

Vesper Martini

3 ounces Gordon's Gin
1 ounce vodka
1/2 ounce Kina Lillet


Shake well with ice, strain into a deep champagne goblet and garnish with lemon peel.

Don't get the idea that Ian Fleming's James Bond is just a Martini man, though. He knows his way around every shelf behind the cocktail bar. Bond enjoys his Bourbon and Scotch, and even indulges in mixed drinks that verge on the girly side, like the Old Fashioned and the Stinger. I like to indulge in classic cocktails like the Old Fashioned myself, and a Stinger hits the spot every now and then. Maybe you'd enjoy one.

Stinger

1-3/4 ounces brandy
3/4 ounce white creme de menthe

Pour ingredients into an Old Fashioned glass with crushed ice and stir, or shake ingredients with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

Phryne Fisher

Kerry Greenwood's Phryne Fisher is a 1920s femme fatale and a private investigator in Melbourne, Australia. It wouldn't be quite proper for even a convention-breaker like Phryne to hang around cocktail bars. Fortunately, she doesn't have to. She has a liquor cabinet at home that would rival any cocktail bar's and, more important, she has that supreme mixologist, Mr. Butler, on hand 24 hours a day.

Like most modern authors, Kerry Greenwood is media savvy and has created a website for Phryne. She also knows what's important in life and has an entire section of the site devoted to Mr. Butler's concoctions. Some of these are classics, like the Old Fashioned, the Sidecar and the Martini. For parties, Mr. Butler likes to serve Champagne Punch or Sherry Cobbler.

When mixing cocktails for empty-headed blondes, he prescribes a Fallen Angel, made with gin, lemon juice, creme de menthe and a dash of bitters; or a Maiden's Prayer, made with gin, Cointreau and orange juice. For the more discerning drinker, Mr. Butler suggests the Negroni.

Negroni

1 ounce gin
1 ounce sweet vermouth
1 ounce Campari

Pour ingredients into a tumbler filled with ice, add sparkling water and stir gently.

Despite his expertise with a cocktail shaker, Mr. Butler never touches mixed drinks. He prefers a good aged port.



Philip Marlowe

The Gimlet, a shimmering, mesmerizingly pale-green libation, is said––according to one dubious-sounding legend––to have been created by a surgeon in the British Navy named Gimlette. The drink is a mixture of gin and lime juice, which would presumably have been handy for battling scurvy. It probably didn't help so much for scrambling up the rigging, though. Anyway, skip forward in time and head west to the U.S., where Raymond Chandler made the Gimlet a favorite of his detective, Philip Marlowe.

In The Long Goodbye, Marlowe declared that a real Gimlet is half gin and half Rose's Lime Juice. I'm shaking my head at that one. I can't figure out how a tough guy like Marlowe could drink something as godawful sweet as that. Maybe he needed that much sweetened lime juice to overpower the taste of bathtub gin?

We are lucky enough these days to have excellent gin available to us, with flavorful botanicals. I like to let the gin shine by using this recipe:

Gimlet

3 ounces gin (Back River Gin if it's available to you)
1/2 ounce fresh lime juice
1/2 ounce Rose's Lime Juice

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled Martini glass. Garnish with a lime wedge.


Bonus

I'll leave you with a recipe for my husband's favorite Martini, a smooth and golden beauty, and a reminder that no matter what time it is as you read this, it's five o'clock somewhere!

The Perfect Cocktail

1-1/2 ounces gin
1-1/2 teaspoon sweet vermouth
1-1/2 teaspoon dry vermouth
dash of bitters

Shake with ice and strain into a chilled Martini glass.