That would be E. Phillips Oppenheim's The Ostrekoff Jewels. It looks so detached and above us, doesn't? Rather lofty in a hazy, dreamy way. But in reality the book was hilarious. It wasn't meant to be, it's an action novel writtin in the 1930s, and it takes itself rather seriously. But I laughed so hard through it that I ended up reading the whole thing, even though every other chapter would leave me shaking my head in disbelief at the characters, or the writing in general. The latter was very dated - which isn't usually a bad thing, but is here because it reminded me of a blend of G. A. Henty (the bane of all homeschoolers) and Carolyn Keene (that schizophrenic women, the author I admired most - right up until I realized she didn't really exist). The world it was set in, the then present day, was dated too, but this was a definite plus. Who doesn't want to read about a world where ready to wear clothes can be spotted a mile away, even by guys?
The plot is summed up best by the main character, Wilfred Haven, as resembling a "Broadway melodrama." I'm not even going to summarize it (I would come off as a little unhinged, I think, and my reputation can't support that), but it involves Russian civil war, Royal Jewels, Mistaken identity, Double agents, a Marriage proposal, and the Tossing of Captors out of a Plane. The marriage proposal was the most ridiculous thing (well, the action was bad too, but since my experience with action writing is limited to the aforementioned G. A. Henty and the Alex Rider series, I'll leave it alone). It consisted of Wilfred saying, in effect "I have no idea who you really are, except I'm pretty sure you're a spy for the red army and have been using me all this time with the sole objective of relieving me of my jewels, which you stole and refuse to return, but none of this matters because something about saving your life in Russia and almost dying together on a Polish plane has made me fall in love with you. Seeing you stab that guy didn't hurt either. Shall we get hitched?"
As Wilfred's private investigator puts it (yes, there was a P.I. too), "An Amazing story."
This book was given to me by my grandfather, who is probably most responsible for my love of old books. He gave it to me quite a few years ago, along with another Oppenheim, but I didn't read them then because I was going off to college. So they were duly packed away in boxes with my other books and I only got them out again a few weeks ago. I'm trying to place all my books into Booxter, which has been really fun. I didn't realize before how many I had, and I'm starting to worry about culling the herd a bit, which is a little depressing. At the risks of sounding materialistic I will admit I love simply handling books, especially the old ones which all have two or three different names written on their endpapers. The Ostrekoff Jewels, for instance, was given to "My Dear Friend, Dorothy" as a Christmas present in 1932 by Mary, who had what has to be the nicest handwriting I have ever seen. Forty years later this little note was penned in it
"For David
4-74
Mother"
And then, of course, there's my own name there now, to show to its future readers that I too was part of this book's history.
