The Somnambulist and the Psychic Thief -...

Most of the story is contained in the title. Miss Lane has been a companion to a psychic until she discovers that the psychic is a fraud. On a moments whim she goes for a job as a private detective with Mr Jasper Jesperson and also finds somewhere to live with him and his mother. Money is getting tight until a wife comes looking for help with her somnambulist husband and this lead them into a mystery about missing mediums. During the investigation they find out more about each other and about the things that can go wrong.

Interesting story and the two characters work well together. The mother is a character in her own right and you can see how resilient she is. There was a bit of handwavium about his skills but overall it was an interesting read.

“’So what is it Enoch Soule? Why are you here? What are you here to tell me?’
[…]
‘I know why you’re here,’ he [the chess player] said.”

In “The Somnambulist's Dreams” by Lars Jerlach



2018’s been my year of reading some fundamental books on Physics. At least they are what some of my friends call Fundamental Books on Physics. After having read a bunch of them, some are not so fundamental: “Reality Is Not What It Seems” by Carlo Rovelli, “The Many Worlds of Hugh Everett III -Multiple Universes, Mutual Assured Destruction, and the Meltdown of a Nuclear Family” by Peter Byrne, “What is Real - The Unfinished Quest for the Meaning of Quantum Physics” by Adam Becker, “The Emergent Universe" by Wallace, “Our Mathematical Universe: My Quest for the Ultimate Nature of Reality” by Max Tegmark. My tiny brain is a hive of activity…Most of them were on the so-called Measurement Problem in Quantum Mechanics.

If you're into stuff like this, you can read the full review.

. . . But suddenly I want to quote everything I read.

(Not putting the book up this time, since it's only a green box anyway.)

"Sleep did not come so easily in Newgate.. Barabbas stank and he knew it. Matters have come to a terrible pass when the stench and toxicity of one's own perspiration are enough to make one nauseous. "

"Ignoring a legion of forbidding notices and signs and heaving themselves over innumerable gates and fences, they eventually clambered down beside the river. Moon wrinkled his nose at the omnipresent smell of decay, treading as carefully as he could along the bank as the filth and muck of the Thames oozed over his shoes.

'Mud,'Cribb said, sounding just as he had on London Bridge . . . 'Glorious mud -- . . .

'We've passed through the city's bowels.  Now we walk the span of her intestine.'

'Charming metaphor.'

'A century from now all this will be torn down, this testament to industry, toil and sweat.  In its place great temples are built, monuments to wealth, avarice and power.'"

Page 137 of 353

(The clue for me, to remember what this is about:  giant ugly head just unearthed from strata so deep that London hadn't even existed. )

and then . . . 

Moon returns to his hotel, where he runs into an old acquaintance.

"'What are you doing here?'

'I've tracked you down,' Speight said proudly.

Moon blinked, still not entirely certain that this exchange was really happening.  'What can I do for you?'

'To be honest . . .money. . . I've had nowhere to doss down.  Things are difficult.  You were always so kind to me --'

Moon cut him off, reached into his pocket and passed the man a pound note.  'Here, spend it wisely.'

'Actually,' Speight admitted, 'I'll only spend it on drink.'

Moon pushed past him and clambered up the steps to his hotel.  'Frankly, Mr. Speight, just at the moment, I'd happily join you.'

'Something the matter?'   Speight seemed genuinely concerned.

'Have you ever had everything you ever believed in ruined in a few hours?'

'Can't say I have, sir, no.'

'Have you ever seen all logic and reason dissolve before your eyes?'

'Again, sir -- I'd have to say no.'

'Have you ever been thrust into the most acute existential crisis by the sheer impossibility of the truth?'

The beggar gave Moon an embarrassed look.  'P'raps you'd better have a lie-down, sir.  Thanks again for the cash.'

With a heavy sigh, the conjuror stepped inside."

Book quote from: The Somnambulist by Jonathan Barnes

"'He's not an evil man.  He acts from what he believes to be honourable motives.'

The corners of Moon's mouth turned themselves up into a sneer.  'Monsters always do.'

'He's not a monster."