And so the month of classic Golden Age authors continues. I was convinced that it wouldn’t last this long as I’ve yet to find some solid gold in the choices that I’ve made. Knowing that it was time to give Ngaio Marsh one last try, I did a little research and came across Surfeit of Lampreys as, according to one edition, “often considered to be her finest book”, so I figured that this was the ideal choice.
The Lamprey family’s fortunes seem to go up and down like a rollercoaster and so they invite rich Uncle Gabriel to tap him for a loan. After entertaining him with some charades (more on this later), Lord Charles is disappointed that Gabriel has no intention of loaning them the money. Someone seems to be so disappointed with this that they decide to insert a large meat skewer into his eye.
With a small cast of suspects – the family, their friend Roberta (or Robin, depending on which page you’re reading – it seems to alternate freely) and their servants were the only people in the house. But with some uncertainty over when he was killed and with the family covering for each other, can Inspector “Handsome” Alleyn uncover the suspect?
I think I need to correct the claim that this is her finest book. I’ve blogged previously about Clutch of Constables – “trundles along nicely but the ending is a massive anticlimax” and False Scent – “a rather moving epilogue but too late to save it“. I didn’t rate these two much but they were better than this one. To sum this one up in a witty epithet… um… oh, I know. “Absolutely. Bloody. Awful.” That sums it up nicely.
Where to start, where to start? Well, Alleyn and Inspector Fox (still labouring under the nicknames Foxking and even Foxy at one point) are still as dull as dishwater. At least Fox seems to get annoyed at some of the games being played by the Lampreys but Alleyn tolerating the eccentricities beggars belief at times. And seriously, “Handsome”?
The characters? The Lampreys are possibly the most irritating set of suspects that I’ve ever read about. Twins who won’t admit who is sort-of a witness to the crime, for example. The family speaking in French so that the police won’t understand them and the police doing NOTHING about it – I know the policeman in the room speaks French, but the fact that they don’t complain and the Lampreys don’t work out that this means their trick doesn’t work… The dead man’s widow’s obsession with the occult… And if anyone actually understands the charade performed for Uncle Gabriel is much smarter than me. And they’ve got a stupid surname chosen only for the title of the book. And there clearly is a surfeit of them. Far too many irritating characters.
The mystery? Like The Clock Strikes Twelve, another pen-and-paper who-was-where job. It takes a while to explain things – the murder in the lift takes an age for the timings to be explained properly. It’s not misdirection, more simply not explaining things properly. And the choice of murderer is frustrating for any number of reasons that I can’t go into for fear of spoilers. Although I’ve never been close to break Rule 1 of the blog as I can’t believe that anyone would want to read this. Someone please, recommend a decent book by this author. Please.
So, overall? Very, very bad – almost painful to read at times, especially the mess of an ending. Avoid like the plague. To reiterate – Absolutely. Bloody. Awful.