Whose Body? Chapter 7–9

Welcome back to the third week of the readalong of Dorothy L. Sayers’s Whose Body? For the first time I will be writing this without any pressing deadline or big event the next day, so we’ll see if that makes this week’s recap better or worse.

First, I will address an omission from last week’s post. I forgot about one of my favorite passages, the one about cheese, greatly disappointing my spouse, since we had shared it aloud and laughed over it:

as in all Cathedral cities, the atmosphere of the Close pervades every nook and corner of Salisbury, and no food in that city but seems faintly flavoured with prayer-books. [Lord Peter] sat sadly consuming the pale, passive substance known to the English as “cheese” unqualified, (for there are cheeses which go openly by their name, as Stilton, Camembert, Gruyère, Wensleydale or Gorgonzola, but “cheese” is cheese and everywhere the same)

(Bourbon Street Books, 78)

Chapter 7 begins with Peter’s return from Salisbury, (where one can consume “cheese, unqualified” but not Salisbury steak, a staple of mid 19th century American frozen dinners. That particular eponymous dish of meat, breadcrumbs and brown gravy was named for an American scientist.) He tries to weasel out of a lunch date until he learns that Mr. Milligan the financier has somehow weaseled himself into the lunch. Peter’s immediate departure is prevented by Bunter:

“Not in those trousers, my lord.”

We enter the scene before he does, with the Dowager Duchess of Denver who has no idea who this guy is, or why he’s given money to the church. She is able to quickly and politely divine that Peter is involved, and not give away any secrets. She “conducted a rapid rally of all her intellectual forces” and “walked warily” for the next page and a half until Milligan insinuates that other American businessmen might show up begging to be included. Her classist self pales, and yet, “by this time she had dug herself in comfortably and was even beginning to find her range.” so that when Peter does show up, late, apologetic, and babbling to distract, she already has Milligan well in hand. Well played, DD.

The chapter ends with a gratifyingly frank talk about vocation, privilege, and ethics between Peter and Charles, who is sitting in an “elderly but affectionate armchair.”

“You want to be consistent, you want to look pretty, you want to swagger debonairly through a comedy of puppets or else to stalk magnificently through a tragedy of human sorrows and things. But that’s childish. If you’ve any duty to society in the way of finding out the truth about murders, you must do it in any attitude that comes handy. You want to be elegant and detached? That’s all right, if you find the truth out that way, but it hasn’t any value in itself, you know. You want to look dignified and consistent–what’s that got to do with it? You want to hunt down the murderer for the sport of the thing and then shake hands with him and say, ‘Well played–hard luck–you shall have your revenge tomorrow!’ Well you can’t do it like that. Life’s not a football match. You want to be a sportsman. You can’t be a sportsman. You’re a responsible person.”

(122-3)

To which Peter responds, sans adjective, so we don’t know if it was tart, flippant, weary, or stern, but I can imagine any of these: “I don’t think you ought to read so much theology…It has a brutalizing influence.”

The men part, their nascent friendship on stronger ground than it was before. Peter returns home to ruminate, but then lets his mind wander, in a manner similar to that of a writer waiting for inspiration, a receptive, open state that I always associate with the Minnesota writer Brenda Ueland, who called it “moodling.” He comes to a realization, which the reader is given part of. We’re told the who, and have been given hints as to the why, but don’t yet know the how, or why Peter is so certain about the who.

The next scene is more surprising and interesting to me on this, my second read. Rather than waking Bunter or calling Charles to trumpet what a Mr. Clever Pants he is, instead, Peter has an episode of PTSD, reliving the shell shock of his career as an officer during the Great War. The next morning the Dowager Duchess, (such an unwieldly sobriquet), who is “in possession at Peter’s place, terms it an “attack” and refers to it as “nerves.” Peter is anything but pretty, debonair, or magnificent, as Charles accused him of wanting to be earlier. Charles describes him as “seedy” while he uses “a voice entirely void of expression.” When he speaks with “a strong shudder” the DD asks if his “ague is coming on again.” And then Peter lets his mom and butler hustle him off into a car to the country. Whatever this is, it’s not toxic masculinity, or alpha-male behavior. And the timing of it, right after his realization, is a distinct shift in tone, and significant.

He repairs to the family seat. “At Denver things moved in an orderly way; no one died sudden and violent deaths except aged setters–and partridges, to be sure.” Peter gets to savor a letter from Bunter, who has been enlisted to investigate Julian Freke’s man. “I sometimes think Mervyn Bunter’s pulling’ my leg.” We get to meet stolid Gerald, Lord Wimsey himself (interesting how Sayers teaches us as we read what the conventions are.) “Why can’t you marry and settle down and live quietly, doin’ something useful?” To which Peter replies, “You may come to want me yourself, you never know.”

Dun dun dun.

We end the section with Peter certain that Levy is dead and gruesomely, and that Lady Levy will need the DD’s support. I found it hard to put the book down to write this and not barrel through to the end, but needs must, and I did. You’re welcome.

How is your reading going, what did you enjoy or not in this week’s clump of chapters, or whatever part of the book you’ve read? I’m currently in the midst of the Dorothy L. Sayers chapter of Francesca Wade’s group bio, Square Hauntings, and will have much to share in next week’s post about the end of the book.

NB: to those who are reading the books for the first time, I advise skipping the Afterword by John Curran that appears in some editions. Spoilers!