Mingled with Venom
(1978)
<>My review:
Although minor, Mingled
with Venom (1978) is enjoyable Gladys Mitchell, the classic
situation of wills and poisoning, against a Cornish background.
The plot concerns
the murder of a wealthy grandmother, Romula Leyden—a
seemingly strong-willed and selfish woman, but, as the remark of
one of her relatives shows, pathetic, believing that “she
could buy from us what she couldn’t get voluntarily from the
actual blood relations, real genuine gratitude.” Having
failed to disclose the conditions of her will, she is
poisoned—aconitine
administered in horseradish sauce (of which the recipe is given);
the murder proving that money is “the root of all evil—or
do you think horseradish is that?” The characterisation
is good, showing Mitchell’s gift for creating believable
portraits—the best is without any doubt Gamaliel Leek, who
prefers to be called Greg Ubi, the black adopted son of Mrs.
Leyden’s grand-daughter—although worries about Mrs.
Leyden’s racist reactions date the book, Mitchell obviously
has affection for the boy, and the treatment of him as a normal
boy, rather than a Negro (or worse, as it would be in Christie’s
and Marsh’s books), is pleasing to see. Dame Beatrice
Bradley—lamentably toned down, so much so that it is
difficult to believe her statement to the murderer that she could
easily snap his wrist, although thankfully Laura does not appear
much, nor do the monstrous regiment of women, the Three
Musketeers—takes an interest in the boy’s boxing. The
names of the family are daft, “both interesting and
picturesque”—Bluebell Leek indeed! Names are
important, in that the victim’s name is responsible for the
means of their death.
The plot is
admirably clear, and the clues to the murderer’s identity
sufficient for the reader to be able to hazard a guess at the
villain’s identity—one clue in particular, disguised as
a lengthy description of setting, being quite clever. The
narrative is straight-forward and clear, pleasingly direct, and
the setting, amidst plenty of botanical lore, is well-drawn.
Good, straight-forward Gladys Mitchell, showing that even
late, late in the evening, she had not lost her powers of
narrative, characterisation or plotting—a book pleasing to
all her admirers.
To
the Bibliography
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the Mitchell Page
To the
Grandest Game in the World
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