Finished Books

The Wizard's Butler, by Nathan Lowell. I believe it's self-published. The Amazon blurb is:

"He thinks he's a wizard," they said.

For five grand a month and a million dollar chaser, Roger Mulligan didn't care how crazy the old geezer was. All he had to do was keep Joseph Perry Shackleford alive and keep him from squandering the estate for a year.

They didn't tell him about the pixies.

I read it because of Eleanor Konik's recommendation (I subscribed to her newsletter back when it was an Obsidian thing and kept it up even after I found Obsidian wasn't for me, because there were often interesting links and resources). I was going through my old emails, and I found this:

That said, I actually started reading Nathan Lowell because of a totally different book, which I loved way more than it felt like I should have. Based on the cover you might be forgiven for thinking that the Wizard's Butler is a really campy gay romance, but it is in fact just the story of an former army medic who winds up working for an old rich guy as a butler and discovering that he does in fact really enjoy figuring out how to properly do laundry. There’s some magic (but the protagonist is just a mundane guy who never particularly has to use any violent skills), and ostensibly there’s an antagonist in the form of the rich guy’s money-grasping relatives, but the main focus really is on stuff the protagonist realizing the best person to help him learn how to do his new job is his mom, and going home for Thanksgiving to ask for cooking tips.

Sounds boring when I put it like that, but I skimmed almost nothing, and I normally skim lots of fluff paragraphs in fantasy novels.

This doesn't in fact sound boring to me, and I was quite curious, so I bought and read it. I wasn't, exactly, bored, but I was pretty disappointed. Neither the characters nor the story were at all as deep as I would have preferred. I liked the earlier parts, where Roger Mulligan (monsieur army medic) was doing at least some emotional adjustment, and figuring out how to butler,¹ but the emotional adjustment felt over with pretty quickly. After that he was still working in improving his butlering, but to me at least the text didn't really make me feel his investment in it. I believed it; I just didn't feel it.

(Also, point of order, while I suppose you could say the best person to help him do his job is his mom, his best resource is a giant magical guidebook someone gives him. I did enjoy the scenes with his parents, but there was much less parental interaction than I'd imagined.)

There's also the issue of the money-grubbing relative. The relative in question is a niece; she is trying to have him declared incompetent. Now, though Shackleford doesn't in fact have dementia, he has a magic amulet which is eating his memories and often makes him forget when he is and what's going on, etc. On top of this, every time he sees her and he isn't having an amulet episode, he is actively pretending to be in much worse condition than he is, both physical and mental. I don't think she actually has his best interests at heart, but if he actually were as he was presenting himself to her, he would not in fact be in any condition to manage his affairs.

On top of this... There's one moment, in the grip of the amulet, where he asks after his sister/his niece's mother, long since dead:

Roger knocked twice and opened the door. “Ms. Patching, sir.”

“Who?” Shackleford rolled out from behind his table.

“Ms. Patching, sir. Your niece.” He stepped out of the doorway and Naomi walked in.

“My niece is twelve years old. Who is this woman, Perkins?”

Shackleford asked, peering at Naomi above his glasses. “Uncle, it’s me. Naomi,” she said, glancing at Roger with a satisfied gleam in her eyes. “Don’t you remember me?”

Shackleford paused, sitting more upright in his wheelchair. “Naomi? My gracious. Is it you?”

“Yes, Uncle.” She swept across the room to kneel beside his chair and take one of his hands in both of hers. “Yes, it’s me.” He stared at her for several long moments. “You look like your mother. How is she?”

Naomi swallowed hard and blinked several times. “She’s ... she’s well, Uncle. She misses you.” > Shackleford nodded. “I miss her, too.” He looked up at Roger. “Perkins, put a note on my calendar. We’ll go by the house and visit her. Next week?” He looked at Naomi. “Would that be acceptable?”

“I’m sure she’d like that, Uncle.” Shackleford nodded, more a tremble than a full nod. “Yes, then that’s what we’ll do.” He looked at Naomi again. “What brings you to an old man’s side, my dear?”

“I had a premonition that you might be lonely, Uncle. It’s been just ages since I’ve seen you.”

“Well, I’m happy to see you. Would you care for a cup of tea?” He looked at Mulligan. “Perkins, tea and some of those shortbread cookies.”

“No, Uncle. That’s not necessary.” Naomi drew his attention back to her. “Please. I can only stay a few moments. I just wanted to check up on you. Make sure you were doing well.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Perkins can just pop down to the kitchen—”

“I’m sure, Uncle,” she said. She released his hand and stood, leaning over to kiss his balding pate. “You just rest and take it easy.”

The old man nodded. “If you’re sure. It would only take a moment.”

“I’m sure, Uncle,” she said again. “I have an appointment to show a house in the neighborhood in a few minutes.”

He smiled up at her and nodded. “Well, don’t let me hold up commerce, my dear. I hope they love it.”

“I’m sure they will, Uncle.” She patted his shoulder. “You rest now.”

Shackleford nodded. “Yes. I think I’ll take a nap. That sounds rather good. I didn’t get a good night’s sleep, did I?”

“Probably not, Uncle.” She turned and smiled at Roger on her way out the door.

“I’ll be right back, sir,” Roger said.

Shackleford waved a hand and spun the chair around. “I’d still like a cup of tea.”

“I’ll get it, sir.”

“Thank you, Perkins.”

(Perkins being the name of the previous butler.)

I mean the next section is

Roger caught up with her on the stairs.

“His geriatrics specialist didn’t see that side of him, I wager,” she said with the kind of smirk that Roger longed to slap off her face.

But she does end the section with "Keep him safe. You hear me?" to Roger, and I think she means it.

But I bring this scene up in particular because she finds out at the trial that Shackleford's been faking it. She does not, obviously, find out that there were any amnesia episodes.

I think if someone said to me what Shackleford says in this scene to Naomi—as a trick—I would hate them for it.

Disclaimer that my own take on this might be biased by my own grandparents' ongoing decline. If I discovered that they were somehow faking it, and it would have to be one hell of a scam to manage... In many ways I'd be overcome with joy and relief, but I would also be very very angry.

¹(Though I could have done without the early description of the money-grubbing niece focusing so closely on her visual appeal, sigh. Though I'm not 100% sure but I think it might be the first and last time that happens in the book, which is a bit interesting especially because it happens very early. Not sure if it's marking her out as the bad guy, or a first-draft marker, or Oh Got To Put It In There Not To Scare Off The Straight Guys... come to think of it maybe it is meant to signal that it's not going to be a gay romance. Pah.)

Thus Was Adonis Murdered, Hilary Tamar #1, by Sarah Caudwell At first I found this very, very funny. There are still some sections that make me laugh to remember, like:

On my first day in London I made an early start. Reaching the Public Record Office not much after ten, I soon secured the papers needed for my re- search and settled in my place. I be- came, as is the way of the scholar, so deeply absorbed as to lose all consciousness of my surroundings of the passage of time. When at last I came to myself, it was almost eleven and I was quite exhausted: I knew I could not prudently continue without refreshment.

If, at eleven o'clock on a weekday morning, you leave the Public Record Office [...]

But I found the resolution of the murder mystery not only deeply stupid—especially disappointing since there was a lesser mystery resolved very cleverly—but classist and homophobic. It helped some when I realized it was published in the early 1980s, but blech. It certainly made me less inclined to seek out the next book.

On the other hand, and what I pretty embarrassingly hadn't noticed until the endnote—Professor Tamar's gender is never actually specified! I spend the entire book assuming they were a guy, which 😬😬😬 @ self. Whenever I do get around to reading the next one, I suspect paying attention to that ambiguity will make it a more interesting experience.

The Game of Kings, Lymond Chronicles #1, by Dorothy Dunnett I read this, finally! It's been on my reading list for ages, as something enjoyed by lots of other people with taste similar to mine. Somewhat to my surprise, I didn't love it? In a sense much weaker than 'I didn't love it' usually takes: I did actually like it, I'm glad I read it, but I was expecting it to grab me in a way it did not. I think Lymond is just—a bit too perfectly shaped to be the thing he is. To me the most blorbo-activating character was actually Richard, his brother, and my favourite part was the part near the end where (spoiler) Evpuneq ahefrf uvz naq gurl erpbapvyr.