Cue the Dead Guy: A Polly Deacon Murder Mystery Book

After seminary graduation and moving my possessions back from New York City to Illinois, I was invited to visit Norway by family there, my first visit since 1962. Most of the time I stayed with Mother in her apartment in the Majorstua neighborhood in Oslo, not far from Vigland Park.

Arriving, travelling light, I found little to read. Mom hadn't been long back in her homeland and, except for some John Jakes novels, most of her books were in Norwegian. One exception was a bunch of old Rudyard Kipling novels which I presumed she had gotten from her stepfather, Fin Graff, who had been raised in Eau Claire, Wisconsin before the suicide of his father, Dr. Harald Graff, and the separation of his family, he being sent back to relatives in Norway, his brother (my paternal grandfather) and sister being raised by their mother in the States.

Except for Kipling's children's stories, I only knew him as a poet whose work celebrated British imperialism in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. I didn't want to read him! But, until I got to know the neighborhood and find the good bookstores carrying English titles, I had little choice.

The Light That Failed was completely unknown to me. A quick perusal showed it wasn't primarily about lording it over the darkies in India, so I selected that volume and lay down in my room to read.

I was amazed! Not only could Kipling plot well and write beautifully, his characterizations were actually believable. I became captivated by the love story at its heart and anguished tearfully with the protagonist.

I may have finished the book over the course of one night, perhaps two. It was hard to put down.