John Mortimer wrote a long series of novels and short story collections about Horace Rumpole, barrister at law. As I understand it, the TV series Rumpole of the Bailey came before the short stories and novels. I have seen some episodes of the TV series, although I barely remember them.
The First Rumpole Omnibus contains:
- Rumpole of the Bailey (6 short stories)
- The Trials of Rumpole (6 short stories)
- Rumpole's Return (a novel)
A few weeks ago I read the first story in Rumpole of the Bailey, "Rumpole and the Younger Generation." It is a longer short story at 40 pages, and introduces Rumpole, his wife Hilda and his son Nick. It also introduces us to his place of work and the Old Bailey. Although I enjoyed the story, it was a bit sad toward the end, and I wasn't sure whether I would continue reading the stories or not. (I don't reject sad stories usually, but for some reason it did not put me in the mood for continuing.)
On Monday night I decided to try the second story in the book, "Rumpole and the Alternative Society." It features a "hippie" group living at a place they call Nirvana, located in a resort town called Coldsands. A young female resident of the commune has been arrested for possession of a large amount of cannabis and Rumpole is sent to the resort city to defend her. His expenses are paid for by the Legal Aid Fund of Great Britain. And he enjoys a trip away from home. He will be staying with old friends he knew when he was in the RAF, an ex-pilot and his wife.
This paragraph is part of his description of the train trip to Coldsands.
So I was, as you can imagine, in a good mood as we rattled past Reading and cows began to be visible, standing in fields, chewing the cud, as though there were no law courts or judges in the world. You very rarely see a cow down the Bailey, which is one of the reasons I enjoy an occasional case on circuit. Circuit takes you away from Chambers, away from the benevolent despotism of Albert the clerk, above all, away from the constant surveillance of She Who Must Be Obeyed (Mrs Hilda Rumpole). I began to look forward to a good, old-fashioned railway lunch. I thought of a touch of Brown Windsor soup, rapidly followed by steamed cod, castle pudding, mouse-trap, cream crackers and celery, all to be washed down with a vintage bottle of Chateau Great Western as we charged past Didcot.
Rumpole, unfortunately, does not get his good, old-fashioned railway lunch.
One thing that is quite clear after reading these stories is that Rumpole loves his work. I enjoy the first person narration and the humor. So I will continue reading the stories, although at this point I only plan to read the stories in the first book, Rumpole of the Bailey.
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