The hitherto unsuspected versatility of "n't"

In Death and the Dancing Footman, Ngaio March has written herself a corker of a thriller, a smashing piece, what?

It really is a good, suspenseful story. That the characters are all caricatures of British dandies can be either a hindrance, or a supplement, to your enjoyment of the story. A supplement, for the likes of me.

My new favorite line in all fiction: “You used to have a pair of Canadian snow shoes, usen’t you?”

USEN’T??????

You took a walk around the block, tookn’t you?

You ate all the candy, aten’t you?

You rode your bike the to the exterminator, rodent you?

See, that last one is a pun, because “rodent” is an actual word! In a sentence about an exterminator! Clever!

Death and the Dancing Footman is full of stuff like that, those old (not ancient, but old) English idioms, that style in which every speaker is a)grammatically correct, b) sophisticated and c) able to choose words and put them in order instantaneously in a sophisticated way.

After Mandrake has been rescued from a freezing pool in the middle of a blizzard:

“I can’t tell you how distressed I am. Another sip, no, do.”
“Jonathan, somebody came behind me and thrust me forward.”

Next time you want to insult someone: “He is a poltroon as well as a popinjay.”

A subplot is that one character is desperate to keep his real name a secret, because it is utterly humiliating. I was expecting something like “ Hemorrhoid” or “Poopbutt”. Nope: “Footling”. I had to look it up. It means “something trivial.” Speaking as a Celer, I find that not even worth mentioning, let alone making a subplot.

Anyway: excellent murder mystery. And a lot of fun if you like language.

And I have blogged. Blogn't I?