Not in the Flesh [Englisch] [Taschenbuch]

Ruth Rendell's "Not in the Flesh" deals with buried skeletons, both the physical and the metaphorical kind. Chief Inspector Reginald Wexford and his Detective Sergeant, Hannah Goldsmith, report to Old Grimble's Field in Flagford when an elderly man and his dog come upon an old set of remains. Nothing is found with the body to indicate the man's name, place of residence, occupation, or cause of death. However, since the victim was wrapped in a sheet before being buried, it seems apparent that he was murdered and then concealed to avoid discovery. Wexford and his team interview the area's residents, but it is a tedious business, and they emerge with very little to show for their efforts. The mystery deepens when Inspector Burden and DC Damon Coleman discover a second body hidden under a woodpile in the cellar of Sunnybank, an abandoned bungalow on the Grimble property.

Two possible witnesses prove to be particularly irascible and maddening. One is fifty-year old John Grimble, "a bad-tempered bugger" who, for many years, has been obsessively ranting about the planning authority's refusal to grant him permission to use his late stepfather's land to build multiple homes. The other is eighty-four year old Irene McNeil, who had kept watch over the Grimble place when she lived nearby with her late husband, Ronald. Irene is a self-absorbed snob, as well as a racist and a congenital liar; Wexford has his hands full trying to maintain a gentlemanly demeanor while dealing with this infuriating woman. Another person who may be able to shed light on the crimes lives next door to the Grimbles. He is Owen Tredown, an author who is dying of liver cancer. In an unconventional arrangement, Tredown resides with his current wife, an icy and off-putting woman named Maeve, and his ex-wife, Claudia Ricardo, who is flighty and prone to embarrassing revelations. The two women appear to get along better than one would expect, but there is nonetheless something undeniably creepy about the whole arrangement.

Identifying the two sets of remains proves to be no mean feat, and the reader must slog through a multitude of dead ends and red herrings before the truth finally emerges. However, this labor-intensive investigation lends verisimilitude to the proceedings, showing just how many pieces of evidence and false leads the detectives must sift through before they achieve that elusive breakthrough. A little luck doesn't hurt, either. In addition, Rendell includes a subplot about racism in England and the horrifying practice of female genital mutilation that is still practiced in certain cultures. In Kingsmarkham, where Wexford lives with his wife, Dora, there is a close-knit community of immigrants from Somalia. Although most of the Somalis are quiet, hard-working, and law-abiding, some of their neighbors are not comfortable with their presence. Wexford's daughter, who is a social activist, asks her father to prevent a five-year old Somali girl from being "circumcised." Although this is an important and timely topic, it seems tacked on to the story and does not mesh well with the rest of novel.

The vivid characters take center stage here. As she has done for decades, Rendell trains her gimlet eye on the frailties, foibles, and self-destructive tendencies that lead human beings to behave perversely. Greed, pride, stubbornness, rationalization, and stupidity are all on glorious display here. Seldom in a Rendell book do you meet characters who are kind and altruistic. The author has made a career of studying the dark and decayed roots of emotionally disturbed people; no one does it better. She also examines family relationships in all of their tortured complexity, and poignantly observes how sad it is for the people left behind when loved ones go missing. Rendell's fine descriptive writing, sharp dialogue, and dry humor more than make up for the fussy and complicated plot, with its unlikely coincidences and far-fetched elements.

Inspector Wexford is the novel's moral center, acting as a one-man Greek chorus. He is compassionate, philosophical, psychologically astute, and a human lie detector. His years of experience prove to be as valuable as the marvels of the Internet, which he disdains as "more trouble than it was worth." Wexford is a natural leader, an advocate for the underdog, and a tireless pursuer of justice. He and his able colleagues serve as a counterbalance to the shameful actions of the novel's villains. When someone suggests that catching a killer after he has done away with someone doesn't matter that much, Wexford strongly disagrees: "You're wrong there. It matters....Killing is the worst thing anyone can do and society needs to punish the perpetrator of such a crime for its own well-being." In a world filled with duplicity, we need people like Chief Inspector Wexford to balance the scales.

This audio book is more than a double treat, it's a sure fire can't-stop-listening-to winner when you pair the estimable acting talents of Tim Curry as narrator and the award winning writing of Ruth Rendell.

Curry won many of us with his unforgettable debut in the cult film The Rocky Horror Picture Show. He has made numerous screen appearances since then, playing diverse roles in such films as Kinsey, Charlie's Angels, The Hunt for Red October and Annie. This actor simply can't be pigeon-holed - on stage he has been nominated thrice for a Tony.

His audio book narrations are as diverse as his professional career ranging from children's titles to science fiction to romance to fantasy and, of course, this stellar rendering of Not In The Flesh. For starters Curry has a wonderful voice, low, deep, strong. It is malleable, if you will, easily moving from tone to tone, intonation to intonation. Born in Britain he retains a hint of a British accent which, of course, serves us well in this story.

What more can be said about Ruth Rendell or how much more praise can be heaped upon her? Surely she has numerous mantels to accommodate all her awards, among them are three Edgars, three Gold Daggers, a Silver Dagger, and on it goes.

For this reader/listener Inspector Wexford is one of her finest creations. Wexford was introduced to us some 35 years ago and by now he's an old friend to many. "Old" is a key word here as he's grown a bit more codger-like with the passage of time, yet just as sharp, clever, and opinionated as ever.

This time out a truffle hunter and his sniffing dog are having great good luck in the Sussex countryside - that is until the competent canine unearths what's left of a human hand. It's left to Wexford to identify the deceased who has probably been hidden in the ground for over a decade. Another confounding problem for the master detective is the inordinate number of people in that area who have simply vanished.

As always Rendell's cast of characters is pure delight from close-mouthed residents to workmen who may or may not have seen anything to a downright nasty old lady with "loglike swollen legs."

To read a work by Rendell is stay-up-late pleasure; to hear it is prime time entertainment.

- Gail Cooke

In her 21st Inspector Wexford novel, the extremely prolific Ruth Rendell at age 78 is not writing at the top of her form; this is not vintage stuff, rather it is Rendell Lite. We are see-sawed back and forth through interview after interview with the same witnesses. How do I fill up 303 pages? Oh, yes, I'll go back and interview the two wives again, or I'll introduce the theme of African female mutilation.
This being Ruth Rendell all of this manic plotting is done with more success and aplomb than others could do it, but her style isn't as elegant and as brilliant as in her other books. Perhaps she has grown sick of dull, old Wexford. He's a much more gentlemanly detective than Ian Rankin, for example, has dreamed up in Rebus.
So many witnesses interviewed, and so many of the witnesses have detailed memories that are astounding. There are two seemingly unrelated murders. One goes back eight years, one eleven years so the forensics people here are dealing with skeletal remains.
Wexford's wife Dora actually does helpful things in this book rather than serve as the cardboard cutout spouse seen in some earlier books. The team of detectives are not clearly delineated; Peter Robinson in his procedurals gives us fuller portraits.
In several of the many, many interviews, Wexford doesn't ask a crucial question; he and Rendell are saving it for later. Red herrings, like pennies from heaven, rain down all over the narrative landscape.
When she finally gets to her denouement, it seems to make a kind of sense which doesn't quite flow out of a lot of the nonsensical story plotting that has preceded it.
Perhaps it's time for Inspector Wexford to step down and get a computer-savvy guy in there.