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A review by hbdee
Who Cries for the Lost by C.S. Harris
4.0
This 18th novel in the Sebastian St. Cyr series takes place in the two weeks before Wellington defeated Napoleon at Waterloo in June 1815, so it nicely dovetails in some actual history-- along with the usual murders and wolf-eyed Devlin's masterful deductions and physical prowess. Then, too, in this one his old war injury causes him significant grief and pain, so he isn't depicted as supernatural in any way, despite his feral yellow eyes, extraordinary night vision and acute hearing.
I especially appreciate the author's descriptions of the strength of women in major roles here, particularly as shown in: Devlin's 6-foot tall, "Junoesque" wife Hero (described as not at all beautiful but handsome in a masculine sort of way), who interviews the poor and publishes information designed to make the ton acknowledge their lives, along with Alexi Sauvage, a war-weary, hardened doctor trained in Italy because England doesn't allow women doctors in 1815, Devlin's actress friend Kat Boleyn (his stepfather's natural born daughter) who'd been a spy for Napoleon in hopes of freeing Ireland from Britain's firm grip, and Phoebe, whose daughter is ripped from her arms and disappeared--leading the authorities to charge her with the baby's murder and imprison her to be hanged--as so many women of the day were imprisoned and executed when their babies died of hunger. (Fashion descriptions are incidental but also appreciated.)
Here we glimpse Hero's usefulness to Devlin's investigations, and her progressive humanity:
"'For a man who just lost his dearly beloved younger brother, he strikes me as far more angry than grief-stricken. What do you think?” Hero reached out to take another sip of his brandy. “He does, yes. But in my experience, anger is one of the few emotions most men are comfortable with. So when they feel frustration or anxiety or even grief, it all simply gets translated into anger.” “Oh, really?” said Sebastian. Hero’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Yes, really.'”
"'There’s a chance that she might agree to receive me,” Hero said thoughtfully. “Not today, surely, but perhaps tomorrow. I wouldn’t say I know her well, but we’ve met each other often enough over the last nine or ten years. And she’s one of those women one might politely describe as ‘socially ambitious.’ ” “I wonder if she’s come to regret her marriage to a mere younger son.” “I’ve no idea. I do know she’s become quite religious of late. And I don’t mean in a quiet, devout way, but in that smug, ostentatious, self-righteous fashion that so often teeters dangerously close to fanaticism.” “Interesting. I’m surprised she fell for a man like Sedgewick.” “Well, he was a very handsome man, and he could be charming. When she first came out it was expected that she would do quite
well; she was pretty enough in a pale, unassuming way, and her dowry was impressive.'"
“'Someone was just telling me that he thinks of evil as the ultimate selfishness—the elevation of one’s own needs and desires above all else.” She considered this a moment, then shook her head. “It’s more than that, I think. It’s a deliberate, conscious rejection of all that is good and right.'”
"'It’s been over a week now, so unless he gave the baby to a woman who had breast milk, it’s surely dead. But I’m still looking, because if I can’t find out what he did with it, they’re going to hang Phoebe for murdering her child.” “You think they will?” “They hang women all the time when their babies are stillborn or simply die in their sleep. Of course they’ll hang Phoebe.” She gave a faint shake of her head. “Although the truth is, I’m not convinced she’s going to survive in that prison long enough to even stand trial.'”
"'Poor Phoebe. She lost her baby, and now the Crown is going to punish her for her poverty and her
powerlessness by taking her life.” She was silent for a moment, her gaze on the fire. “Will it ever change, do you think?” “Perhaps. Although to be honest, I sometimes wonder.” She looked up, meeting his troubled gaze. “So do I.'” (N.B.: with Roe v. Wade, it HAD changed--but is now reverting back again, as women's health care rights are being erased, and now MAGAs are attempting to restrict women's interstate travel and eliminate no-fault divorce laws--men always targeting women to ensure the patriarchy by sheer force of will.)
In this book, I also learned about the island of Cabrera, a little known tragedy deliberately perpetrated by England and then quietly relegated to the backburners of history. After Napoleon's first defeat, when he was exiled to Elba, Spain was due to release 25,000 French soldiers back to France. The British were horrified that these Frenchmen might resurrect an army to reinstate Napoleon, so Britain forced Spain to abandon these men and all their retinue, the camp followers of armies, their women who were wives and/or prostitutes, their children, along with cooks and the rest, to an inhospitable island called Cabrera, where there were no sources of water or food, nor any possibility of establishing food sources, and no shelter from the elements. In the first few months thousands died, and some resorted to cannibalism. It's yet another of Britain's many gross felonies history has left in the dust.
In her afterword, Harris writes: "I have based much of the account here on Denis Smith’s The Prisoners of Cabrera: Napoleon’s Forgotten Soldiers, 1809–1814. It makes for harrowing reading."
As with most murder mysteries, in the end the most unlikely character will prove the villain of the piece, a tradition allowing mystery writers to skirt around finding new plots and twists for something old and reliable. Minus one star for that.
I especially appreciate the author's descriptions of the strength of women in major roles here, particularly as shown in: Devlin's 6-foot tall, "Junoesque" wife Hero (described as not at all beautiful but handsome in a masculine sort of way), who interviews the poor and publishes information designed to make the ton acknowledge their lives, along with Alexi Sauvage, a war-weary, hardened doctor trained in Italy because England doesn't allow women doctors in 1815, Devlin's actress friend Kat Boleyn (his stepfather's natural born daughter) who'd been a spy for Napoleon in hopes of freeing Ireland from Britain's firm grip, and Phoebe, whose daughter is ripped from her arms and disappeared--leading the authorities to charge her with the baby's murder and imprison her to be hanged--as so many women of the day were imprisoned and executed when their babies died of hunger. (Fashion descriptions are incidental but also appreciated.)
Here we glimpse Hero's usefulness to Devlin's investigations, and her progressive humanity:
"'For a man who just lost his dearly beloved younger brother, he strikes me as far more angry than grief-stricken. What do you think?” Hero reached out to take another sip of his brandy. “He does, yes. But in my experience, anger is one of the few emotions most men are comfortable with. So when they feel frustration or anxiety or even grief, it all simply gets translated into anger.” “Oh, really?” said Sebastian. Hero’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “Yes, really.'”
"'There’s a chance that she might agree to receive me,” Hero said thoughtfully. “Not today, surely, but perhaps tomorrow. I wouldn’t say I know her well, but we’ve met each other often enough over the last nine or ten years. And she’s one of those women one might politely describe as ‘socially ambitious.’ ” “I wonder if she’s come to regret her marriage to a mere younger son.” “I’ve no idea. I do know she’s become quite religious of late. And I don’t mean in a quiet, devout way, but in that smug, ostentatious, self-righteous fashion that so often teeters dangerously close to fanaticism.” “Interesting. I’m surprised she fell for a man like Sedgewick.” “Well, he was a very handsome man, and he could be charming. When she first came out it was expected that she would do quite
well; she was pretty enough in a pale, unassuming way, and her dowry was impressive.'"
“'Someone was just telling me that he thinks of evil as the ultimate selfishness—the elevation of one’s own needs and desires above all else.” She considered this a moment, then shook her head. “It’s more than that, I think. It’s a deliberate, conscious rejection of all that is good and right.'”
"'It’s been over a week now, so unless he gave the baby to a woman who had breast milk, it’s surely dead. But I’m still looking, because if I can’t find out what he did with it, they’re going to hang Phoebe for murdering her child.” “You think they will?” “They hang women all the time when their babies are stillborn or simply die in their sleep. Of course they’ll hang Phoebe.” She gave a faint shake of her head. “Although the truth is, I’m not convinced she’s going to survive in that prison long enough to even stand trial.'”
"'Poor Phoebe. She lost her baby, and now the Crown is going to punish her for her poverty and her
powerlessness by taking her life.” She was silent for a moment, her gaze on the fire. “Will it ever change, do you think?” “Perhaps. Although to be honest, I sometimes wonder.” She looked up, meeting his troubled gaze. “So do I.'” (N.B.: with Roe v. Wade, it HAD changed--but is now reverting back again, as women's health care rights are being erased, and now MAGAs are attempting to restrict women's interstate travel and eliminate no-fault divorce laws--men always targeting women to ensure the patriarchy by sheer force of will.)
In this book, I also learned about the island of Cabrera, a little known tragedy deliberately perpetrated by England and then quietly relegated to the backburners of history. After Napoleon's first defeat, when he was exiled to Elba, Spain was due to release 25,000 French soldiers back to France. The British were horrified that these Frenchmen might resurrect an army to reinstate Napoleon, so Britain forced Spain to abandon these men and all their retinue, the camp followers of armies, their women who were wives and/or prostitutes, their children, along with cooks and the rest, to an inhospitable island called Cabrera, where there were no sources of water or food, nor any possibility of establishing food sources, and no shelter from the elements. In the first few months thousands died, and some resorted to cannibalism. It's yet another of Britain's many gross felonies history has left in the dust.
In her afterword, Harris writes: "I have based much of the account here on Denis Smith’s The Prisoners of Cabrera: Napoleon’s Forgotten Soldiers, 1809–1814. It makes for harrowing reading."
As with most murder mysteries, in the end the most unlikely character will prove the villain of the piece, a tradition allowing mystery writers to skirt around finding new plots and twists for something old and reliable. Minus one star for that.