This is the third book in the Lake District Mysteries – I reviewed The Cipher Garden a while ago, and I read the first book, The Coffin Trail before the blog began. I picked this book up – well, sort of, I got it for my Kindle – a) because Martin Edwards will shortly be appearing at my local bookshop, and b) because I loved The Cipher Garden and The Coffin Trail. So, will this be three in a row?

Absolutely.

When I read one of Martin Edwards’ books, I always get the feeling that if I was younger, I wouldn’t have got very far with it. I used to be an impatient reader, you see, always wanting quick and bloody developments – heaven help an Agatha Christie that didn’t have a murder in the first few chapters. Edwards, however, trusts the reader to be patient while he sets the scene.

It’s a fairly brave move, to give over a fair part of the book to the mysterious Guy. Regular readers will want to know more about the potential between Hannah Scarlett and historian Daniel Kind – there’s been a clear mutual attraction between them in the past, but there are the complications of both being in (mostly) loving relationships and also being decent people. Other writers would have contrived the two ending up in bed by the end of the first book, but Edwards eschews that in order to play the long game. By the end of The Cipher Garden, there were occasional vaguely guilty thoughts, but nothing more. Things move on a little in The Arsenic Labyrinth… but I digress. I was talking about the character Guy.

Now if Guy was a character in a novel from an earlier age, then the words “bounder” and “cad” would be used to describe him. I guess “git” would suffice in the present day, but, and credit to Edwards again here, you actually care about his progress. Even though he’s doing fairly despicable things, you want to know what happens to this person and I found myself barely noticing that our regular heroes, particularly Daniel, were side-lined for the opening section.

To say much more about the plot would give things away – there’s something critical about the end of Part One that turns things on their heads. I would just say about this thing – Kindle was a slight handicap as there was something in the book that I wanted to go back and check, but couldn’t without losing my page – that’s probably my Kindle-incompetence though. It would have been easier with one of those papery books though.

At the end of the day, the mystery is quite straightforward – and uses a plot point that’s been annoying me a bit lately – but I completely missed the fairly obvious explanation about what’s going on, and isn’t that the sign of a great mystery novel? Everything that you need to know is in plain sight, but if you don’t look at it the right way…

I’ve been thinking about the appropriate way to describe this book – I’m going to settle for “Eye Magnet”. Because once you start reading it, you can’t put it down. Thoroughly absorbing with characters that you care about and that act like real people and with a plot that pulled the wool over my eyes. Highly recommended.

What’s It About?

Miss Violet Smith, currently working as a music teacher in Surrey, contacts Holmes due to the fact that every time she travels from the railway station to her place of work, she is followed by a mysterious bearded cyclist. Holmes sends Watson to investigate but soon realises the seriousness of the events and intervenes himself.

Is It A Mystery?

Not particularly. There is the question of who the cyclist is, but it’s not much of a puzzle.

Is It Any Good?

Cartoon villains, a clichéd plot and a ridiculous plan on the part of the villains. Not one of Holmes’ finest adventures.

Anything Else?

According to the oracle that is Wikipedia, Doyle had to re-write it to include more Holmes, otherwise The Strand Magazine would not publish it. A shame that he didn’t re-write it to make Watson a bit more competent in the opening section of the action.

Perhaps this is an example of what my fellow bloggers mean when they say that the stories are generally weaker in the later collections…

This is the first of the Wesley Peterson novels by Kate Ellis – see this post as to why I’m reviewing it now. Well, beyond the fact that I’ve reviewed both An Unhallowed Grave and The Jackal Man from the same series and enjoyed them both. But first books can be tricky things… you’ve got to set up your cast as well as telling a story that makes you want to come back for more. So, does this series opener leave you wanting to come back for more?

Yes, it certainly does.

It sounds like an odd combination, archaeology and police procedural, but it works rather nicely. By making Wesley’s best friend in charge of the dig and with Wesley having a natural interest in the subject as well, it fits nicely into the main plot while never seeming intrusive. The present day story takes priority as well – the story of the past is mostly confined to short sections from the merchant’s diary at the start of the chapters. I’ve found in some other books that try and combine both a past and a present case that when the past is given too much page space, both of the stories tend to be diluted, but that is certainly not the case here. It adds a gloss to the story but does not distract from the main plot.

There’s a good central characters here – Wesley isn’t a solo detective but part of a team, all of whom, to varying degrees are perfectly competent. Indeed, it’s only at the final deduction where it’s Wesley who makes the critical difference. And while none of the characters are faultless, neither they so scarred that they sit around discussing their woes all of the time. They just get on with investigating the crime.

Plotwise, this is a nicely layered mystery – even if you piece together what is going on, there’s still the murderer to spot. I don’t think I’d say it’s a classic mystery, cluewise, but from the school of “only one thing makes sense”, but it’s very well put together and still managed to surprise me at the end.

So far, this series is three for three for me, and I’ll certainly be picking it up again in the future – highly recommended.

Also, I should point out to you, especially if you’re local, that on March 15^th, Kate Ellis and Martin Edwards will both be making an appearance at Formby Books to talk about their work. Why should that interest you? Well, read on.

Kate Ellis is the author of the Wesley Peterson books, a series of (to date) sixteen Wesley Peterson books, best described as police-procedural crossed with archaeology – this may seem like an odd fit, but it works very well. You can read my reviews of An Unhallowed Grave and The Jackal Man elsewhere on my website. She has also written three books with a spooky side to them featuring DI Joe Plantagenet and an historical mystery, The Devil’s Priest.

Martin Edwards is the author of, amongst other things, nine books in the Harry Devlin series concerning a Liverpool lawyer and five books in the Lake District Mysteries series – you can read my review of The Cipher Garden on this site. Martin is also involved in the Crime Writers’ Association and has an excellent blog Do You Write Under Your Own Name?

Entry will by £3 on the door and tickets are selling fast, so for more info, email the shop at info@formbybooks.co.uk

As a way of building to this event – and, to be honest, filling some holes in my knowledge so I don’t seem a complete idiot – I’ll be reviewing at least two books from each author between now and the event. This ties in nicely with my current skew of my blog – to concentrate (but not exclusively) on current authors of proper mysteries.

Oh, and if you needed any more persuading, there’s going to be a magician there as well… A brave man in a room of armchair detectives!

Poirot’s old compatriot Hastings has returned from Argentina, but when visiting his old friend, a message is delivered, signed ABC, warning of a murder in Andover on the 21^st. Needless to say, soon Alice Ascher is found dead. Betty Barnard in Bexhill-on-Sea soon follows. Poirot is the master of deduction when it comes to solving carefully planned crimes – but can he catch a homicidal maniac before he strikes again?

Written in 1936, this is the eleventh book to feature Poirot. It was also the first Agatha Christie book that I ever read – probably the first “adult” mystery novel in fact, so it’s safe to say that it had a positive effect on me – otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this blog. I picked this one up again as I recently re-read Cat of Many Tails by Ellery Queen – the joint review of which will be appearing on At The Scene of the Crime and the notion of the serial killer verses the classic detective is an obvious parallel. So, does Hercule’s outing stand the test of time?

Yes, of course it does, it’s a classic.

Tempted as I am to finish the review there, I’d better go into details.

Christie is often accused of two-dimensional characters but even Poirot, a potential caricature if ever there was, has depth here. Granted, it could be argued that he is a little on the thick side at time – there’s one clue in particular that I think pinpoints the killer relatively early, but then I am reading this with the benefit of hindsight. The fact that they are hunting a maniac (the phrase serial killer isn’t used – I guess it wasn’t in use at this time) understandably shifts the focus of the investigation.

I’m not going to compare this with Cat of Many Tails just yet – I’ll save that for a later post – but they are substantially different in almost every way. Christie focuses on the group of characters that are affected by each killing and also gives us access to the thoughts of the mysterious Algernon Bonaparte Cust, but we don’t get much of the national hysteria at the thought of this lunatic killing people by the alphabet.

Christie demonstrates, however, her absolute mastery of the genre at the point where it is revealed that there is a problem with the first solution. The nature of the problem and the fact that she has a large cast of characters who have joined in with the investigation means that at this point, there is still a genuine mystery to be solved – not just who, but what and how much. I won’t expound on that point for fear of spoilers, but this substantially differs from most books with a similar theme. Usually when this point is reached in such a story, the correct solution is obvious – not the case here.

Any niggles? Well, the narrative is a little odd, with a small part of the narrative not narrated by Hastings. Given that it’s speculation to an extent, there’s a lot of internal thoughts which jar with the notion that it’s guesswork, as the rest of the story is “fact”. But other than that, nothing springs to mind.

As I said, the review of Cat of Many Tails is coming soon, but I have to say that I’d pick The ABC Murders ahead of it any day of the week. This is a genuine classic of the genre and still remains one of my favourite puzzles. Highly recommended.

Philip DePoy is, to date, the writer of six Fever Devlin stories, five Flap (yes, that’s his name too) Tucker novels and a stand-alone novel, The King James Conspiracy. This was recommended to me by John from the Pretty Sinister blog as a possibility for Georgia in my Mystery Tour of the USA. To quote John:

“The books featuring Fever Devlin by Philip DePoy are very different, too. He’s a folklorist who stumbles upon puzzling mysteries involving stolen artifacts, missing people, and sometimes murder, in the course of his unusual research into the storytelling of the Appalachian people in the hills surrounding the college town where he lives and workd. Really under-appreciated books. Very American books that could only be set in that state.”

So, is this another successful stop in my tour? Let’s see.

First of all, this is a very well-written book. There’s a depth to everything and the Georgia mountain town is brought wonderfully to life. There is an air of unreality to the town – the most popular church is a snake-handling church, for example, complete with ancient snake-handling artefact. The locals have organised sing-songs, complete with stringed accompaniment – although they’ve had to do without a mandolin section since Fever left. Now, I haven’t been to Georgia – yet – and my only exposure to the Deep South is through film and the inevitable stereotypes. This is clearly written by a native, or at least someone who has done their research, as it brings to life a different culture to what one expects without resorting to too many clichés – an angry sheriff and a group of young men (the Deveroes) running around shooting at things excepted.

Fever himself – well, he does like giving his folklore knowledge an airing at every possible opportunity, but he’s a good lead. He’s got secrets in his past, as is the norm these days, but they do play an important part in the story and clearly will be expanded on in later books. His university chum Andrews is a bit superfluous to be honest, but his role is to give Devlin someone to explain all the oddities of town life to, so he’s a necessary foil.

But we’re here to talk about the mystery. Is it any good?

Well, the motive and general goings-on are shrouded with the town folklore, but the killer and the motive became pretty obvious to me as the book goes on. There’s a crucial “But what could that mean?” moment about two-thirds of the way through which I thought was pretty obvious and made Fever – an academic in the field that it involves – seem a bit thick, but he did have a lot on his mind. It’s a pretty basic plot really, if you strip the decoration away, but the decoration is such an important part of the story that you wouldn’t want to do that.

However, I must mention one of my bugbears – and I know I’m using that phrase a lot recently.

I imagine a lot of my readers will have seen the film Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery and, in particular, the scene with the henchman, Will Ferrell, who will answer any question if he’s asked it three times. Some mystery novels are like that – the detective interviews the suspects, then he does it again, then again and finally they tell him things that could have saved him a lot of time if only they’d told him at the beginning. Sometimes it’s done well, sometimes it’s not… What you really don’t do is have the characters comment on it.

Well, we get that here, with Fever describing the locals as like a mountain, eighty per cent hidden, and he’s content to wait for the information. Never mind the killer that’s lurking around, just let them take their time… luckily the killer takes the first half of the book off killing as well, so it doesn’t matter in the long run. Still, that’s a minor gripe, but I’d have preferred a little more plot development in the first half of the book.

Oh, and BLURB ALERT! My book refers to an important event that takes place approximately 75% of the way through the book. Not a good idea.

So, overall, a fascinating, if a little slow-moving, well-written mystery. Still not sure I’d go as far as saying that I actively enjoyed it, but I appreciated it all the same. Maybe one day, I’ll go back to Georgia.

Adam Croft has written three novels, all available via Amazon, two in the “incredibly successful Knight and Culverhouse” series – incredibly successful in the sense that they topped the Kindle chart, at least. I’m guessing that’s a little easier than topping the printed fiction charts, especially if you keep your prices low.

So, was this another bargain freebie?

It’s very hard to be negative about something that was free. I have to make something clear though – this isn’t a novel.

It is mentioned on the Amazon page, to be fair, but this is a novella and, it seemed to me, a very short one at that. That’s one of the things about Kindle, you have difficulty doing a page count, but I read it from start to finish in about 45 minutes. That’s quite a good thing, in this case, as if I’d put it down, I’m not convinced I’d have come back to it.

The book is clearly written in the classic mystery vein – all the clues are there, the suspects are assembled at the end… but I’m sorry, I’ve read all of this before in better books. The method of poisoning is obvious in the extreme, although given the nature of the poison, it does seem rather slow-acting. Oh, and if you change the type of poison – it starts off being tetanus poisoning, but changes to something else late in the book, you might want to point out that they have similar symptoms – otherwise your casual reader might just think that you cheated a bit. And when you reintroduce a character from the beginning of the story for the big reveal when they haven’t played any part of the investigation…

There are a couple of nice touches – I quite liked everyone assuming Hardwick was a policeman and letting him question them because of it, but they are outweighed by the negative, such as the character of Hardwick himself. I never got any sense of why Hardwick sticks his nose in – or even why he thinks there is foul play involved when the police don’t. Croft attempts to make Hardwick a cipher, but I just found him generic and bland. To be honest, it’s all a bit dull.

I could rant a bit more, but I can’t find the inclination to have a go at something that was free – if you want a short read that’s got a vaguely decent puzzle in it, you could do worse. But you could also do a lot better than this – Dana Stabenow’s A Cold Day For Murder, for example.

OK, you’ve got me. It was free on Kindle last weekend – that’s how I found out about this “Clown Noir” novel. But does the bastard love-child of P.T. Barnum and Raymond Chandler have a spring in its step or does it need concrete size 42 shoes before it has a swim in the river?Crikey, that was a weird read. Initially at least. I’d recommend, if you were to pick this one up on Kindle (and while it’s not free any more, it’s still only 77p), then stick with it. And read the blurb first.

Now I’m the first to whinge about the misleading or plot-spoiling blurbs on books, but this is the first plot-enhancing blurb. It took me a while to realise what was going on in terms of Top Town. It’s explained nice and clearly on the back of the book, but if you just read the inside, you have to piece it together yourself, and I was rather confused for a while. Throw in the author’s use of, presumably, circus slang, which also needs a little deciphering, and you may find yourself a little lost. I’ll raise my hand and admit that I nearly stopped reading a couple of times in the first quarter of the book, but I’m glad I persevered.

Basically, this is a sort of alternate reality, where circus performers remain circus performers even when not performing. Rex, for example, has retired from clowning but is still a clown. The bar for the high-wire acts has a high-wire in it for the patrons to perform on. And so on. I think it’s set pre-war, around 1935, due to a couple of comments about Hitler, but that’s a guess to be honest. Usually I applaud an author that doesn’t spell things out, but I think I needed a little more explanation at the start. Maybe that’s me personally – I’m not up on circus slang and the other side of the story, what I presume is “Noir” is also not something that I’m remotely knowledgeable of. I saw The Maltese Falcon once – I think I got to the end of it…

As for the mystery, well it’s not, really. One out of two potential masterminds must be behind things, and we follow Rex until he meets the villain – not works out, really, except by a process of elimination. But it’s not that sort of mystery – it’s more of a straight crime novel. I’m sure there are a bucketload of nods to the noir genre that went right over my head.

But it does have its charm. As the book went on, I was growing more and more enamoured with the writing. It’s genuinely funny in places and Rex is a likeable lead, once you get a handle on him. I wouldn’t say that it’s a classic, but there are worse things in life to spend 77p on. Worth a look if you want something a little… well, a lot different. I would say, though, that there is another book that I read a while ago that does a similar sort of thing, of which there will be a review soon, and I think it did it better. Let’s see…

This is the third in the Canterbury Tales series by Paul Doherty, following An Ancient Evil and A Tapestry of Murders. It’s an odd little series, as it tells tales that may or may not be fictional relative to the storyteller (although so far they are always true) and seem to involve a number of the pilgrims in some way. I’m concentrating my Doherty obsession on these stories at the moment for two reasons. One, the next new book by Paul Doherty is in this series – The Midnight Man and two, to be honest, I’m still not completely convinced by the format. So it’s sort of a way of getting them out of the way so I can concentrate on the Hugh Corbett or Brother Athelstan books that I’ve yet to read.

So, how does this one stack up with the first two of the series?

The good thing about these tales is that basically, all bets are off when it comes to supernatural stuff. The first book was about vampires – real ones (and that’s not a spoiler). The second didn’t even have a sniff of any otherworldly elements. The final book (I read that one first and it’s definitely my favourite so far) has a ghost as a main character. So when the ghostly black knight turns up, it’s not at all certain whether this is a ghost story or an episode of Scooby Doo, medieval style.

To detail the story a little, Richard Greenele, squire to Sir Gilbert Savage, is sent by his master, dying on the field of Poitiers, to see a lawyer in Essex to find the truth of his origins. He finds the lawyer’s daughter instead (the rather wonderful Emmeline, who is a great character) and, picking up a retinue of outcasts along the way, journeys to his father’s old island estate. His father was accused of murdering the local lord and lady, but escaped only to be killed by outlaws. Now the five knights who attended the estate at the time of the crime, one of whom is presumably guilty, are in attendance to find the truth. But when the outlaws who are following them surround the estate, and the only bridge to the island has been burned, it seems that death may be the only escape for anyone…

This is a rather nice little tale, that does a pretty good job of playing with your expectations. The detective duties in the book are shared between Richard and Emmeline, and there’s a nice line in not knowing where the story is going – whether it’s a tale of triumph or tragedy. This is helped by the fact that for the first time it is not obvious who the narrator, the Franklin (medieval landowner, apparently) is in the story. I thought it was a bit of a missed opportunity in the other three books to make it clear early on who the storyteller was, but this leaves until the epilogue to tell us who the various characters are.

At the end of the day, though, it does also feature one of Doherty’s weaknesses – namely providing distinctive characters for similar figures. Here I found the five knights to be pretty interchangeable and given the main clue was a dying message concerning the name of the killer – which I would expect would have been spotted at the time of delivery given the prevalent nature of something at that time – it didn’t really seem to matter who was who.

Oh, it’s got a locked room murder in it as well. A fairly easily resolved one, but I thought I’d mention it.

So, the identity of the murderer was a bit of a mishit, but the grander game being played, both in the story and in the framing sequence more than made up for it. I’ll say no more, otherwise I am going to spoil the plot too much. For me, one of the better entries to this series, along with A Haunt of Murder.

This counts as my eighth book in the Historical Fiction Challenge.

What’s It About?

Holmes is approached by Josiah Amberley, a retired paint supplier (hence “Colourman”) whose wife has apparently absconded with his young neighbour, Dr Ernest, taking a pile of cash and securities with them. Holmes is hired to track them down.

Is It A Mystery?

Um… the problem is, if you treat it like the mystery that you expect it to be, then the resolution sticks out like a sore thumb. If you weren’t well-versed in the genre, then you might be fooled, but, coming at the end of a long run of Sherlock Holmes stories, this is a bit predictable. The only stumbling block to the amateur sleuth is why the guilty party did something completely unnecessary that brought about their downfall?

Is It Any Good?

I am starting to appreciate Doyle as a writer – the characters here… well, character really, is well crafted and the story trundles along nicely. Shame it’s so obvious.

Anything Else?

I’m curious to know where this comes on people’s pecking order of stories. While the mystery was obvious – that’s the last time I’ll mention it – it was a pleasant enough read.