Morgan’s Castle by Jan Hilliard ~ 1964. This edition: Ace, circa 1960s/1970s. Paperback. 142 pages.
Look at that – it’s the last day of January already.
I have been reading quite lavishly all through the past month, but as for posting about those reads, I’m not doing so well. Let’s see if we can remedy that situation with some micro reviews, starting with this strangely entertaining bit of Canadian gothic – more specifically Ontario Gothic – written by the Nova Scotia-born Hilda Kay Grant, under her pen name of Jane Hilliard.
I’ve now read four of Hilliard’s six novels, missing only the Stephen Leacock Award winner The Salt Box, and the rather elusive Dove Cottage, and I have to say it’s been quite the enjoyable ride.
Let’s set the mood with cover scans of my recently acquired vintage Ace paperback edition. (Shout out to Thriftbooks, which I sometimes have recourse to when ABE fails me.)
Our heroine gets the full emotional damsel-in-distress cover portrayal, though that isn’t quite accurate, as sixteen-year-old Laura is remarkably pragmatic and level-headed all through this tale, though sudden death happens behind, in front, and all around her as a dark family secret unravels. This could be because she is a mere teenager, but more likely because, despite her tender age, she has been forced to take on the role of grownup in her relationship with her ne’er-do-well father, Sidney, a mediocre artist over-full of self-regard. Laura’s cynical and seldom-voiced-out-loud observances lend piquancy to this often flat-toned tale.
The Du Maurier comparison on the front cover is vastly inappropriate; this isn’t anything close to that. Hilliard wrote with tongue firmly in cheek, and my impression was rather that this was a full-on parody of the well-explored gothic genre, generously adorned with Canadian references.
I will stop right here; I did say “brief” was my goal.
Takeaway: it’s a Canadiana keeper. It made me heartlessly chuckle all the way through, as the murders got more and more outrageously unlikely. Hilliard shows herself to be divinely callous regarding her lavish disposal of innocent victims – including that dog, a lovable Irish Setter – and if that description intrigues you, and dark humour is your thing, this book might be for you.
My rating: 8/10. Engagingly daft in its predictably unlikely plot.
Leaves & Pages 