A DANGEROUS LANGUAGE

If anybody could point me in the direction of a good condition Chrysler Airflow I'd be very grateful. I know there was one in the 1953 Redex Trial and there were a few in Australia at the time, so surely, somewhere, in somebody's shed... frankly I'm lusting... But I digress, and that's the problem with Sulari Gentill's Rowland Sinclair series, of which A DANGEROUS LANGUAGE is book number 8. It's easy to identify with the perfectly packaged little details, as you find yourself immersed in a time and place that's beautifully described, standing out from the pages, making the things that Sinclair and his companions get up to something you feel a part of. Reading this series is part history lesson, part time spent with good friends, part escapade.

If someone had told me that A Dangerous Language was an authentic heretofore unknown classic golden age mystery, I would have no trouble believing it. It's beautifully plotted, taut, and meticulously researched. With most modern period mysteries, there's a polite suspension of disbelief which allows the reader to enter the story in whichever time period whilst reading a modern feeling narrative. This book (and the others in the series) absolutely resonate with the spirit of the 1930s. I was transported. Terribly trite, but the settings and story really came alive for me.

There is something very quintessentially Australian about this book. Many (most?) of the wealthy social upper class in Australia still had close ties to England, and that's the case with Rowland. He's on the outs with his ultra traditional (stuffy!) brother, Wilfred, who disapproves heartily of Rowland's bohemian friends, and feels that Rowland's escapades are willfully designed to embarrass.Sinclair is affluent, self-deprecating and genuinely likeable. He's loyal to his friends and dashing and not above a bit of derring-do and can be relied upon in a tight spot. With fascists and anti-communist thugs as well as disapproving family members and an old flame trying to make life difficult, Rowly and company have their work cut out for them.Such a fun read. The dialogue is wonderfully written and pitch perfect. There are sidebar news bits providing current (1934) headlines and backstory history along with an epilogue at the end of the book with real-life backstory, with which I was previously unfamiliar. The historical sidebars and chapter intros make up roughly 10% of the page content and are cleverly interwoven into the plot seamlessly.Five stars, brilliantly written, flawlessly executed. I want to go re-read the series now.

As an aside. I do think the book could be read as a standalone, but definitely benefits from being read as part of the series.

I adored this book. It's got all the qualities of a perfect madcap mystery, from a loyal quartet of artistic friends, nefarious political operatives, and a good family name that needs to stay out of the muck. Rowland Sinclair wouldn't feel out of place in the midst of a good Agatha Christie mystery.I'll admit that I may be a bit biased, since I'm currently living in Australia, but it was an absolute delight to read a book which takes place in the Australia of the 1930s. There were so many developments (such as the communist/fascist conflicts) that I remained completely ignorant about and that this book did a brilliant job of introducing. Historical fact is masterfully blended with fiction. More than a few historical figures, from Egon Kisch to Stanley Bruce, grace the pages. None of the historical context feels didactic - it all feels startlingly pertinent to the characters' lives.Even though I started with the eighth book in the series, I was able to pick right up and understand what was going on. The characters felt fully realized, each with their own little idiosyncrasies and attitudes (poor, long suffering Mary Brown!). The events of prior books were referenced in a way that provided context and more than a little intrigue without merely summarizing the series.It is the relationships between the four main characters that drives the book. From Milton, the communist and poet (albeit one who spends more time quoting others than writing his own), to painter and handyman Clyde, to the irrepressible Edna, to the wealthy not-a-communist-but-maybe-a-sympathizer painter Rowly all feel honest. You can't help but root for them.