As a child, I recall reading the “problem pages” in my mother’s magazines with rapt fascination. I’m sure that some of it went over my head, but they were by far my favourite part of her weekly magazine haul. Once I hit adolescence, I loved the advice columns in my teen magazines, particularly Laura’s column in the now-defunct British magazine, My Guy. Laura’s great claim to fame was a successful campaign to ban PE knickers for girls in British schools (some sort of shorts worn in gym class which bore a close resemblance to underwear). Apparently, they created great distress for many a British school girl as they made it obvious if she was wearing a sanitary pad.

I remember being fascinated by the idea of PE knickers because they were the exact opposite of what I wore in my Irish Catholic, all-girls school. Our PE outfit consisted of a baggy aertex shirt coupled with a pair of shorts which resembled a skirt. It was hard to tell what sex we were in that outfit, never mind discern whether or not we were wearing a pad. We were not allowed to shower after PE class in case we’d see each other naked, and most of us had devised a method to get changed in such a way that no one saw our underwear. Looking back, it all seems so ludicrous, but I never questioned it at the time.

I have digressed somewhat from my chosen topic, but thinking about the problem pages of old reminded me of the trials and tribulations of adolescence, and my horrible school uniform in particular.

When I saw an interview with journalist Tanith Carey at The Book Depository, I was intrigued by the idea of her latest non-fiction book. Never Kiss a Man in a Canoe: Words of Wisdom from the Golden Age of Agony Aunts (2009) is a fun selection of agony aunts’ advice from the 1850s to the 1960s. Apart from a detailed preface, Carey makes no attempt to analyse the extracts presented in this book, leaving her readers to interpret them as they will. The extracts are at times amusing, and at times bizarre. They represent a very different sort of agony aunt to the caring, non-judgemental advice provided in today’s magazines and newspapers.

The book is arranged in ten themed chapters, with titles such as Love, Courtship and Marriage; Sex, Sin and Moral Dilemmas; and Careers, Money and a Woman’s Role. I’ve selected a few extracts for your amusement.

From Love, Courtship and Marriage, page 15:

Dear ‘Ta-ra-ra’,

It surprises us that a girl sufficiently educated to write well and spell well should be so deplorably ignorant of the common rules of society to think that she may go out alone with a young man in his canoe. And furthermore, one whom she ‘only knows slightly’.

GIRL’S OWN PAPER, 1895

From Sex, Sin and Moral Dilemmas, page 63:

‘Schoolboy vice’ – Have you not a family doctor you can trust? Glad indeed that you have seen the terrible error. Yes, there is an operation for the evil after effects, but I don’t think it is necessary in your case. Take a cold bath every morning and plenty of good, non-stimulating food.

BOY’S OWN PAPER, 1899

From Health and Happiness, page 167:

‘A Guardian’ – The girl with no vice, but a bad temper, may be improved if you can persuade her to make a trial of the Asylum at the Manor House, Lower Kennington Lane. A weekly payment must be made towards her maintenance. It is not an asylum for girls who have qualified for the Magdalen Hospital, but for pilferers, liars and the like, who may be reasoned out of their errors.

THE WEEKLY MAGAZINE, 1859

And finally, from Exasperated Agony Aunts, page 201:

In a cheery letter from Manchester, ‘Honeysuckle’ laments the fact that she has bought ever so many odd lengths of ribbon at the recent sales and now doesn’t know what to do with them.

I don’t like to think Honeysuckle is lazy, but her brain must be a teeny weeny slow to act. Why, there are hundreds of ideas for using up oddments of ribbon. I’ll get some designed for you all soon. No need to explain how your underwear can be made daintily sweet by threading ribbon through lace, or sewing little bows and frills. Every daughter of Eve knows that.

BETTY’S WEEKLY, 1916

I haven’t assigned a grade to Never Kiss a Man in a Canoe because my grading system is based on my comparative enjoyment of a particular sort of book. As I have nothing to compare it to, it seems unfair to grade this book. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and would recommend it to anyone curious to see what sort of advice was dispensed by the agony aunts of old. It’s a quick read, and an excellent pick-up, put-down book. One of the problems gave me an idea for a story and I’ve been rolling it around in my head ever since.

For anyone interested in buying Never Kiss a Man in a Canoe, it’s on sale at The Book Depository for €8.26/$11.25 – not a bad price for a hardcover! I’m not in any way affiliated with the author or receiving money for promoting the book. I’m providing the link to The Book Depository as it doesn’t appear to be available outside of Europe, but The Book Depository will ship for free to anywhere in the world.

Some Questions to Ponder:

• What do you think of the “advice” given in the above extracts?
• Do you read advice columns in magazines/newspapers, or did you do so as a teenager?

The Suspicions of Mr Whicher is an historical true crime story set in a Victorian country house. It is as much an examination of the development of the detective – in fact and in fiction – as it is a murder mystery.

The story begins in June 1860. The setting is Road Hill House in Wiltshire, Kent. It is the residence of Samuel Kent, his second wife Mary, and his seven children. An assortment of servants complete the household. To the outside observer, it appears to be a typical Victorian home. But by morning, one of its occupants will be dead, and the others will be murder suspects.

The detective assigned to the case, Jack Whicher, is one of the original eight Scotland Yard officers. This detective force was formed in 1842 and was initially regarded with deep suspicion. Over the years, the force gained a certain celebrity, especially through fictional immortalisations by authors such as Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins.

As the identity of the murderer is revealed fairly early on, I’m limited in what I can say about the development of the story without giving too much away. Suffice it to say that the book follows the search for – and the conviction of – the murderer, and what happens to them upon their release from prison. We are shown the dichotomy between the rights of the middleclasses and their servants, the tensions between landlords and tenants, and how for the wealthy, the law really is different.

On the plus side, Summerscale’s book is a variation on the typical true crime story. It has an interesting premise and is clearly well-researched. I liked the juxtaposition of the developing mystery and the analysis of detection in the 19^th Century.

My criticisms are not to do with the story itself, but rather with its execution. Summerscale relies heavily on actual police records and court transcripts to supply dialogue for the various characters. While I appreciate her efforts to keep the book as true to the facts as possible, it made for stilted reading. I never got a feel for the people and their personalities, making it difficult to care what happened to them one way or the other.

Then, having stuck resolutely to the facts for the entire book, Summerscale inserts a couple of bizarre theories at the end to explain the motivations of the murderer, but fails to elaborate upon them. I found this seriously frustrating. The conclusion left me dissatisfied and with the impression that the story had potential which was never realized.

For people with an interest in crime and punishment in the Victorian era, this might be worth reading, but I cannot wholly recommend it.            Grade: C