I picked up this book last weekend in Seattle while browsing the Borders. Really, what more could I ask for in a non-specific bookstore browse? Victorian period mystery - I have a type. Now, for quality Victorian period mysteries, this book gets a fail. It was not original, nor was it all that inventive, and it distinctly lacked in the foreign - the majority of the book took place in Windsor, England. It was a mediocre piece of prose that ticked all the boxes for what should be an entertaining read. Unfortunately the main characters were both too predictable and too boring, and the mystery was easily figured out in about 50 pages. Also, not to nitpick, but the language and several historical points were glaringly modern. Also, one thing that totally irked me was the author's decision halfway through the book to stop phonetically describing one character's Hereford accent. That is just straight laziness - either write the accent or don't, but to come up with some ridiculous, half-assed reasoning on why it won't continue was just lame.
All of that said, I read this book on the plane home while trying not to shit my pants from the turbulence. For that, I thank it - I needed the distraction, and I am sure those passengers around me were relieved when I was able to stop hyperventilating and start concentrating on my story. While it was moderately crappy, it was also mildly entertaining, so I give it a fair 2 incorrectly referenced undergarments out of five, with an additional adult diaper recognition of thanks from Air Canada's flight 206 from Vancouver on Monday night. We all thank you!
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