Monday, 23 March 2026

Review: The Daughter of Time

The Daughter of Time The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Definitely unusual. Tey's detective, laid up in hospital after being injured in pursuit of a suspect, gets interested in history, and applies his police methods to the (then) 400-year-old mystery of what happened to the Princes in the Tower, the two young sons of Edward IV. Did their uncle Richard III have them murdered, as the Tudors and their sponsored authors claimed and as history books have taught ever since, or was that a complete frame-up?

The case comes across as compelling, though apparently Tey left a few things out, and it's not as cut-and-dried as she paints it. Historians certainly object to her approach, perhaps partly because she has some harsh words for historians who draw conclusions completely at odds with the facts they present. She touches on other historical rewrites along the way, again not always completely accurately. For example, she mentions the riots at Tonypandy in Wales in 1910, and the detective and his historical researcher adopt "Tonypandy" as a shorthand for an exaggerated story that's widely believed - in this case, that troops fired on the rioters; but she elides a few of the details, including the fact that one person did die in the riots (though whether as a result of police action or not has never been definitively settled).

Still, while it's possible to quibble over details, this book takes the detective story to a new and unusual place, and manages to make an interesting novel out of a man in a hospital bed reading books and talking to a young researcher about events of four centuries previously, which itself is no mean feat. I found it very educational about a time in English history I was only passingly familiar with, the end and aftermath of the Wars of the Roses, and it also has some things to say about how history is written by the victors and/or the popular imagination, and the difference between what people say happened and what the day-to-day records of ordinary actions show.

Setting aside whether or not its conclusions are as justified as they're made to seem, or whether Tey herself is committing Tonypandy, it's a masterful piece of writing that deserves five stars just for the degree of difficulty, and I also found it entertaining.

Sadly, the HarperCollins ebook edition belies its own claim that they "uphold the highest standards of ebook production" with numerous missing punctuation marks, the obvious result of their usual lack of attention to detail and lack of editorial effort. This book deserves better.

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Sunday, 22 March 2026

Review: The Dragon Has Some Complaints

The Dragon Has Some Complaints The Dragon Has Some Complaints by John Wiswell
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I also have some complaints.

tl;dr: This book was not for me. I mean that both in the sense that I didn't like it much, and also in the sense that it wasn't intended for the kind of person I am.

If you're the kind of person who will love this book, or have already read it and loved it, reading this review may only annoy you, and you may be better off skipping it and reading one that will reinforce your views instead. I always implicitly write my reviews for people who value the things I value (writing craft, especially) and enjoy the things I enjoy. I write positive reviews to direct them towards books I think they would like, and negative reviews to direct them away from books that are probably not going to be to their taste. If you have different priorities and enjoy different things, what I have to say will not be of much interest to you.

This review is going to be as much an expression of concerns I have about the current cozy fantasy genre in general as it is about this book in particular, though starting from thoughts I had while reading this specific book.

The first thing that bothered me about this book is that it feels like one long point-of-view violation. The viewpoint character is the relatively sane and sensible central head of a three-headed dragon; the other two heads have issues. Upperhead has the delusion that he's human, and Lowerhead has become almost animalistic. All three, including Centerhead, have lost memories because of the trauma of the loss of Lefty, the fourth head, who was favourable towards humans and worked with them. That obscured backstory may partially explain why this supposedly wild dragon not only understands but freely uses so many human concepts, including trans men and women (who he identifies instantly as such), cathedrals, apothecaries and vacations -this last itself being an anachronistic concept for the setting. However, while he recognizes ink and paper, he doesn't understand what writing is - but uses the verb "read" in a metaphorical sense multiple times.

How this came across to me is that the author wasn't putting in the effort, or maybe didn't even think about the need, to characterize someone based on what that sort of character is familiar with and would know and value. Reading some of the reviews of one of his other books reinforces this idea; multiple reviewers mentioned how a solitary swamp monster who had previously had limited and brief interactions with humans seemed to have a complete and instant grasp of how abusive human relationships work, as seen through a this-worldly current-state-of-psychology lens. To me, this is a basic craft issue.

And this is a problem I have with the cozy genre in general. Not only is the worldbuilding often thin, little more than generic sword & sorcery scenery flats, but those scenery flats stand behind people who are, in their attitudes and ways of thinking, completely indistinguishable from mid-2020s US people of a particular type (to which the authors belong). My suspicion is that they are so embedded in a filter bubble that emphasizes doctrinal purity that they are almost unable to conceive of people who might think differently from them, except as othered and villainized; that they have no functional sense of history; and that they believe implicitly that everything they think, and the way they behave, cannot be improved upon and therefore should be universalized. As a young person, I was in a community like this myself, and even though the content of the beliefs could hardly have been more different, I recognize the patterns.

In the typical cozy book, basically every single character (who isn't a villain or at least an opponent) is queer in some way, and most of them are at least one of neurodivergent, disabled, or struggling with anxiety or depression. In these days of self-selecting groups ("found family"), this may be the lived experience of the author; everyone they know is like this. But it's like the famous example of the journalist who, when a political candidate won an election, protested that nobody he knew had voted for him. It says more about the narrowness of the person's experience than the actual constitution of the world at large. I should note that I don't have a problem with people being queer, neurodivergent and etc. These are ways that real people are. But it isn't how everyone is, and universalizing it places me and people like me, who don't have those characteristics (except that I am arguably slightly disabled and occasionally anxious), in an outgroup, just as much as earlier literature placed people who did have them in an outgroup. It's not true inclusiveness if there's still an outgroup, even if that is the people who were traditionally the ingroup. It's still not fully honouring our shared humanity.

In this particular book, the pervasiveness of these types of characters is more or less its only claim to belong to the cozy genre, since it's about a war between diverse refugees from a lightly sketched fascist-imperialist country and that country's military. Nobody here is living the equivalent of a Japanese "slow life." It's more like the demimonde of the Weimar Republic left Germany (though the names are mostly Eastern European), found an uninhabited island, tamed some dragons, created a flying city using the antigravity magic of the dragons, and held out against a much-less-efficient Nazi regime, with Britain pretending to help, but actually out to take half their land and half their dragons in return for minimal assistance. (That is, at least, slightly more worldbuilding than cozy authors often bother with.)

The other thing that annoyed me about this book, and the main reason I gave it up in the middle, is the character Raina, who becomes the rider of the dragon central character. She is the complete opposite of the kind of character I like to read about. She's outwardly naive and optimistic to the point of getting on people's nerves, while on the inside she's a complete emotional bombsite who uses alcohol and casual sex as forms of maladaptive coping. And what escalated her from "annoying character" to "reason to put the book down and not pick it up again" was that the dragon declares to Raina that she is everything a human should want to be, which is a statement I couldn't disagree with more strongly. To me, that's not unconditional acceptance; it's enabling.

If you don't care about the POV issues and can cope with Raina, this is a competently written book with the right emotional beats to appeal to plenty of readers. In the author's afterword, he mentions that the copy editor remarked on how clean it was, and I agree that it has fewer issues than average, but there are some words used in odd senses, and a few small words like "to" and "the" dropped out of the occasional sentence in the pre-publication version I had from Netgalley. (Missing words are a hard thing to spot unless you have the knack of it.)

It's not a terrible book. It just very much is not for me.

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Friday, 20 March 2026

Review: Murder on the Airship

Murder on the Airship Murder on the Airship by Victoria Bergman
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I've been reading a lot of classic mystery books lately, largely because a lot of the new fantasy books coming out now are not to my taste. So I was pleased to find that this book combined the two: a mystery with a limited pool of suspects (but there are seven of them, so it takes some work), set in a fantasy world. I also enjoyed the fact that the detective wasn't a brilliant savant but an ordinary guard, thrust into the position of having to solve the crime because her boss has been (non-fatally) poisoned in the course of events, who takes a doggedly persistent approach to interviewing the suspects and figuring out the course of events. It's much more Freeman Wills Crofts than Austin W. Freeman, in other words, and if you're also a fan of hundred-year-old mystery books you'll probably know what that means. Also, there's no romance, indeed no romantic or sexual relationships, whatsoever, and while I don't object to those, it is refreshing to have a book that just focuses on the mystery.

The course of events is complicated, meaning that it's far from clear for a long time who has committed what crime, and specifically who has committed the murder. It's well orchestrated and cleverly done, though, like the protagonist, I wondered how all these people hadn't stumbled across each other while nefariously wandering the ship late at night.

It's usually a pretty sound rule of thumb that if there's an airship in a book, there are also multiple vocabulary errors. I don't know why this is. Fortunately, in this book I only spotted one such error, a common one which I will mention to the publisher and which may well be gone by publication. (I had a pre-publication version via Netgalley for review.)

The editing is generally OK, though there are a few common issues - occasional missing past perfect tense, "may" in past tense narration where it should be "might" - and a slight oddity in the punctuation of some dialog. Again, I'll mention these to the publisher, and some of them may well be fixed by publication.

This is a sound piece of mystery writing, and an appealing fantasy world, two things I enjoy separately which it turns out I also enjoy together. I'll be looking out for more from this author.

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Wednesday, 18 March 2026

Review: Joan & Co.

Joan & Co. Joan & Co. by Frederick Orin Bartlett
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Pig-in-a-poke book, picked up from the Project Gutenberg feed without knowing anything about it, or the author, not even the genre. It turned out to be a good find.

It's a romance, of sorts, but it's more than that; there's a theme, too. It's a very character-driven book, so let's start with the characters.

Mr Burnett has built up his business (manufacturing patent leather) over 30 years, and is doing well. He would love to hand it over to his son Dickie, recently graduated from college, but Dickie isn't very interested in the business. In fact, the only thing Dickie is interested in is Joan, the beautiful daughter of a wealthy family (wealthier than the Burnetts, though not so much so that they're in different social strata). Joan has also recently graduated, but unlike Dickie, she is discontented with the shallow and narrow life of her social circle and wants to do something that matters.

Her eyes have been opened to this shallowness and narrowness by befriending Mildred, a woman who had scrimped and saved and come out from Montana to attend college (the same one as Joan) and better herself - only to starve and work herself to death. Through Mildred, Joan briefly met Devons, Mildred's cousin, who comes from a similar hardscrabble background (his father's a small farmer), and has managed to get educated and come up with a revolutionary new process to produce patent leather. But nobody will stake him to compete with the Burnetts, and the vice-president of Burnett's, a scheming fellow named Forsythe, offers him a pittance to buy it outright, and no other deal.

Devons has run out of money to live on, and goes out in bad weather, undernourished, to ask an old friend for a job, but is fortunate enough to be run down by Joan's car before he dies of exposure. Recognising him as Mildred's cousin, she takes him home and ensures he's nursed back to health, getting to know him in the process. She wants to invest in his process so he can start his business, but has no money she controls of her own. However, Dickie, whose proposal she recently turned down, said that regardless, she could always ask anything of him, and what she asks is for him to fund the business.

With his usual lack of interest in anything other than Joan, Dickie makes no inquiries as to what the business is, and Joan is unaware of where Dickie's family get their money (it's apparently not something you talk about in their circles). She also doesn't mention Dickie's surname to Devons. So Dickie is funding not only his rival in love (because Devons has fallen for Joan too), but, unbeknown to any of them, his father's rival in business.

There's a certain amount of coincidence involved in setting this up, of course, but I didn't mind it, because it was in the interests of causing conflict, not resolving it, or removing character agency.

Complications, of course, ensue, not least because of the scheming of Forsythe, which ends up blowing up in his face. Along the way, the author contrasts two kinds of people: those who have too little money and must struggle to get ahead, sacrificing their health and wellbeing to do so, and those who have too much obtained too easily, who live a pointless existence with nothing to strive for. The two generations of the Burnetts represent the two situations, but so do Devons and Joan, in a different way. Joan, at least, is trying to involve herself, to do something that matters to someone, even if - raised to be unworldly and naive - she doesn't know how to go about it.

Both of the young men try to put Joan on a pedestal as a princess and do everything for her, but she doesn't want that; she wants to serve, to do something that matters, even if only to one person. The gendered work assumptions of the time do come in here, but not so blatantly that they became a big problem for me. Joan has been deliberately raised to be ornamental rather than useful, and her rebellion against this is consequently somewhat ineffectual, but at least she does rebel.

There is a happy ending in which everyone gets at least a form of what they wanted (except for Forsythe, who's the designated villain), but the form of what they wanted is generally not what they thought they wanted, and not what I was expecting. This is a good thing.

Because it's not formulaic, and because it does have, and competently develop, a thought-provoking and well-thought-through theme, and because it's well edited and in general soundly written without being overwritten, it gets five stars from me. It's a buried gem from more than 100 years ago, and I'm glad I uncovered it and took a chance on it.

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Monday, 16 March 2026

Review: Library of the Unbound

Library of the Unbound Library of the Unbound by Tuuli Tolmov
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I somehow missed the "YA" part in the blurb, so I got more teen angst and love triangle than I was looking for (I wasn't looking for any). My fault, not the author's.

Leaving that aside, this is an enjoyable adventure with an appealing main character. She has poor judgement, but at least she knows that, and tries not to make it worse by drinking alcohol. Though tempted to nope out from the whole mess she's got involved in, she reluctantly - but bravely and effectively - does the right thing.

She's a booktamer, who takes magical books that have gained sentience and turns them back into ordinary books again - meaning that people can use the magical rituals in them, which turns out to be a problem.

The worldbuilding is mixed. It's an alternate history, in which there was a religious revolution 600 years ago that suppressed magic and installed a theocratic government. For some reason, the names of places are mostly either their Roman names (Londinium, Lutetia, Hispania, Brittania) or medieval (the kingdom of the Franks, Saracenia). There's a continuing war - a crusade, basically - against Saracenia, in which the Church Knights, who are the elite, are fighting, but that doesn't come into the main story. There's also either a geographical difference or the author has made a mistake, because Lutetia (Paris) is apparently on the coast.

On the other side of the worldbuilding coin, technology is basically what anyone born in the past 30 years would be used to as the norm: cellphones, laptops, tablets (though those last are supposed to be reserved to the elite).

The main character has trust issues, which are fully justified throughout the book, but there are well-intentioned people too. The plot has a few twists in it, and plenty of suspense.

I gather the author is not a native English speaker. This mostly shows in sentences that start out in the past tense and finish in the present tense, or nouns and verbs occasionally not agreeing in number, or idioms that are very slightly off, though there are also a few instances of dialog punctuation not following the conventions. Honestly, I've seen much worse from authors who are native English speakers, but (despite crediting plural editors and beta readers) it does need another round of editing to be really tidy. Since I had a pre-publication version via Netgalley for review, it may get one after the version that I saw.

It's an appealing book, and I enjoyed it even though I'm not much of a YA tropes fan.

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Review: Tea & Treachery at the Infinite Pantry

Tea & Treachery at the Infinite Pantry Tea & Treachery at the Infinite Pantry by Jo Miles
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Extremely earnest in a very specifically mid-2020s way that will date it quickly, but if you read a lot of cozy fantasy, you're either looking for that or at least don't mind too much.

It's an original concept, though. Instead of a library or a hospitality business, we have something that combines elements of both: a kind of museum of magically preserved food (which also has three libraries and a hospitality business attached). But something has started going wrong with the preservation magic, not to mention that a major funder has just been lost, and Glen, the recently appointed head of the institution, has to pull everyone together (and hold herself together) while they all try to solve the problems.

There's never any indication where Glen fitted into the picture before she was promoted, which to me was a notable omission. She shows no particular in-depth familiarity with any of the areas of work in the institution, the heads of the departments that play major roles in the crisis all seem to have had their positions for a while, and nobody acts like they recently reported to her specifically. She has long backstory (raised by a grandmother who emotionally abused her and made use of her while undermining her self-confidence), but no recent backstory that I could see.

I spotted the source of the issue at the 10% mark. (view spoiler) I didn't spot the mechanism, though I probably should have; there were plenty of clues. But this book isn't primarily about solving the mystery, but about the journey of the people who are trying to solve it, and their relationships, including a romance that emerges in the course of the story.

There's a nasty rich noble guy who's the main villain. The rich and the noble are overlapping groups, and apparently hold enough power that there's no suggestion that he face any consequences for (view spoiler), though there are also no immediate consequences to the institution from defying and thwarting him. It was another pair of what struck me as odd omissions.

The editing, happily, is above average, with few and minor glitches, which helped it hold onto its fourth star, despite the fairly basic worldbuilding (usual in cozy fantasy) and the couple of holes I mentioned above. The other thing that got it four stars, though, was that I enjoyed visiting the place and following the people, most of whom are lovely. I will be watching out for a sequel.

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Thursday, 12 March 2026

Review: We Solve Murders

We Solve Murders We Solve Murders by Richard Osman
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I liked it but didn't love it.

I liked the hapless ex-cop Steve, dragged willy-nilly into a round-the-world pursuit of clues to several murders that look like someone is trying to pin them on his beloved daughter-in-law Amy. He just wants a small, quiet life back in his village with his mates in the pub and his cat. I get it, and I don't think he's wrong to want that. I liked his mate Tony, an ordinary bloke with a garage, as well, for much the same reasons.

I didn't like Amy nearly as much. She is disengaged from her emotions because of a traumatic childhood, and scored high on her boss's homemade "psychopath test". She's not actually a psychopath; she knows right from wrong and which one she's pursuing, but she doesn't indulge in feelings about it. This leaves her a bit superficial as a character, especially since she's mostly reactive rather than proactive.

I didn't like her boss much either, for similar reasons.

I disliked the bestselling novelist, Rosie, considerably. She's so rich she's not even sure whether or not she owns a helicopter. She's still (in approximately her 70s, probably, but she refuses to say) living the same lifestyle of sex and drugs and private jets that she started on in the 1980s, and feels fine about it.

The other viewpoint characters I don't think I was meant to like, apart from the hapless and clueless would-be influencer Bonnie (just a young mother trying to do what she loves in a way that will help her kids have a better life) and the head-in-the-sand talent agent who is being used by the villains. There's a self-regarding action movie actor who's awful in various ways. The villains are obsessed with money and casual about ruining or ending people's lives, more so than I was expecting from a cozy author, though I haven't read contemporary cozy previously. Most of my mystery and thriller reading has been of books from a century or more ago.

The whole thing reminded me of one of Dave Barry's novels; general comedic/bantering tone, casually nasty criminals, hapless ordinary protagonists (apart from the ones who are basically superheroes). It didn't mesh well with my taste overall, but I appreciated that it was well executed and well edited.

I do still intend to try the Thursday Murder Club, which may be closer to my idea of cozy, but my hopes are lower for it now, and I won't be continuing with this series. Again, this is about my taste, not the quality of the work.

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Wednesday, 11 March 2026

Review: 1066 and all that: A memorable history of England

1066 and all that: A memorable history of England 1066 and all that: A memorable history of England by W.C. Sellar
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I first read this, I think from my school library, many years ago. On re-read, I realize that I don't know as much English history as I thought I did, and in particular I have a big gap in the 18th century, though I'm shaky on parts of the Middle Ages too.

What I do know helped me appreciate the cleverness of this book, which is supposed to represent what the average English person actually remembers from their school history lessons (as at circa 1930, at least). It satirizes the overly patriotic, not to say jingoistic, England-centric way that history was taught at the time; whether or not England is Top Nation is a point that keeps getting reverted to. I had to smile at the description of the Pope and all his followers seceding from the Church of England in the reign of Henry VIII.

The more you know about the subject matter, the funnier it will be.

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Monday, 9 March 2026

Review: The Man Who Bought London

The Man Who Bought London The Man Who Bought London by Edgar Wallace
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

"A man who marries for money is like a dog that climbs a steeple for a bone. He gets his meal, but there isn't any comfortable place to sleep it off."

This book features not one, but two romances between someone who's rich and someone who isn't, one of the parties being the title character. King Kerry is buying up property in London on behalf of an American "trust," and as part of that purchases a department store where our heroine works (but is about to not work; she's been late a number of times, and is inclined to snark her boss, rather wonderfully). She reminds Kerry of another girl who had a tragic end, so he takes her on as his secretary.

Twelve years later, Wallace revisited the department store as a setting and the "new woman" as a main character in Barbara On Her Own . Barbara is more central, and more capable, than this book's Elsie, driving the plot where Elsie tends to just ride along.

There's a complicated twist at the heart of the story that only comes out at the end. It's potentially controversial for modern audiences, but it's a big spoiler, so I'll put it in spoiler tags: (view spoiler)

It's fast-moving like all of Wallace's books, twisty, sometimes comedic and sometimes suspenseful. The ending, I felt, was abrupt and didn't give the wrap-up the time it deserved, but I enjoyed the journey there.

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Sunday, 8 March 2026

Review: The Unknown Seven: a detective story

The Unknown Seven: a detective story The Unknown Seven: a detective story by Harry Coverdale
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Right from the first scene, we're in noir territory. A detective is standing in the rain and fog of nighttime New York City, watching the house of a scientist. He wears a slouch hat and a long raincoat and smokes a cigar. (He also smokes cigarettes and a pipe in the course of the book, but somehow his lungs are "in the pink of condition" when he has to climb a lot of stairs.)

A beautiful woman pulls up in a fancy chauffeur-driven car and invites him to get in. She knows all about him and what he's doing. She blindfolds him, and takes him to a downtown skyscraper, where he meets the Unknown Seven, a group of masked men who attempt to bribe and then threaten him into giving up his case....

In the course of the book, he'll perform magnificent feats of detection and action, win and lose several fights, be knocked out, tied up, imprisoned and generally messed with, be in danger of his life multiple times, gain and lose allies, discover hidden connections and a sinister plot, and... feed his cat, Toots, who has domesticated him in the way of cats, moving into his apartment and demanding food and a comfortable place to sleep. The cat helps to humanise him, though he's a more complex character in general than a lot of pulp detectives. I haven't read enough classic noir to know whether the detectives there are usually this well developed; I don't like the cynical tone of most noir, which is happily absent here, replaced by the optimism and energy of the pulps. He's also a highly intelligent detective, really a criminologist who moonlights as a detective, but is remarkably good at it.

There was, of course, the potential for a romance angle with the Plucky Gel (who plays a minor but significant role throughout, which unfortunately includes getting kidnapped and used as leverage), but romance or even attraction is never developed, at least not for the detective. I didn't feel this was to the book's detriment.

What does let it down a little is that the author or an incompetent editor has made two consistent errors. First, not following the dialog punctuation conventions for when the same speaker continues in the next paragraph, and secondly, mispunctuating restrictive relative clauses in a way that turns them into non-restrictive clauses, distorting their meaning. Both of these occur multiple times.

If you can overlook that, this is a rip-roaring detective adventure of the 1930s, with plenty of action, a twisty plot and a well-developed (for the genre) main character.

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Friday, 6 March 2026

Review: Police at the Funeral

Police at the Funeral Police at the Funeral by Margery Allingham
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Allingham was an excellent writer, providing suspense and mystification and wonderful plot twists while describing her eccentric characters memorably. Here we have a Victorian matriarch presiding over a household in which her middle-aged children and nephew are forced to live, because they have lost what money they had and have no skills with which to earn any. It's a kind of hell on earth, and it's not astonishing that murder breaks out.

Campion, who isn't exactly a private detective but isn't exactly not one either, is called in (the only young member of the family is engaged to someone he was at university with), and handles the situation with his usual combination of keen intelligence and an appearance of near-idiocy. There's some sometimes grumpy and sometimes friendly rivalry from his old friend the Scotland Yard inspector, and Campion has a desperate physical fight to deal with before the end.

The final twist is terrific, and beautifully carried off.

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Thursday, 5 March 2026

Review: The Complete Mrs Pargeter Crime Mysteries 1–8

The Complete Mrs Pargeter Crime Mysteries 1–8 The Complete Mrs Pargeter Crime Mysteries 1–8 by Simon Brett
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is an updating of the Golden Age mystery for the late, rather than early, 20th century (and into the 21st). The first book was published in 1986, and the rest intermittently through to almost the present day, but there's considerable time distortion which means that the events proceed, and the characters age, much more slowly than technology advances.

I thought I vaguely remembered a TV version of it, but apparently I was mistaken. Simon Brett, the author, is a BBC radio producer, who has produced several shows I've listened to, and that may have been where I got that idea.

Overall, I enjoyed the books, despite the unlikeliness and the spoiled protagonist. "Spoiled protagonist" is a technical term I use for protagonists who are narrated as too perfect and are constantly handed everything they need, whenever they need it, sometimes at the expense of lesser characters. At least in this book the spoiling has an explanation: Mrs Pargeter is the widow of a criminal mastermind who was highly respected by his extensive network of specialists, many of whom he specifically instructed to look after her after his death. Still, not only is Mrs P. very comfortable with herself, but the narration shares her admiration of her own perfections, and judges the lesser people around her unmercifully while never casting even a fragment of shade on Mrs P. Also, the author has his hand on the scales in her favour more than once, including giving her devices that apparently work by magic.

The following reviews of the individual books were mostly written immediately after reading them and before going on to the next book.

Book 1, A Nice Class of Corpse, is set in a private hotel inhabited by a number of elderly people. Mrs Pargeter, aged 67 and five years widowed, joins them, and then (by the kind of coincidence that cosy mystery abounds with) the murders start. The late and genuinely lamented Mr Pargeter, it's clearly implied but never outright stated, made considerable money in illegal enterprises, and his widow calls on the expert advice of a couple of his old associates to help her in solving the crimes.

Mrs Pargeter is self-assertive to a carefully calculated degree, never pushy or rude, just good at cheerfully getting her own way and ignoring social convention if it happens not to suit her. I enjoyed her encounters with the uptight hotel proprietor immensely.

I spotted the first red herring - it seemed far too obvious far too early on - but the second red herring fooled me completely, in a way I enjoyed and applauded. The murderer keeps a diary, and we get extracts from the diary interspersed with the narrative, which ramps up the tension. A very slight cheat: The style of the diary is neutral and generic, so it gives no hints in that way to the identity of the murderer, even though most of the suspects have their own style of speaking to some degree. I can explain it away as the difference between spoken and written language, or the difference between an outward persona and the true thoughts of the person.

At the end of the book, Mrs Pargeter decides this isn't the place she wants to live, and moves on.

Four stars.

In book 2, Mrs, Presumed Dead, we start to get a sense of the formula. As is usually the case in cozy mysteries, another murder happens to occur in Mrs Pargeter's vicinity, this time in the house she buys in a yuppie enclave - before she even moves into it. A key clue happens to have got stuck down behind the radiator, and she happens to find it because a piece of paper she's written something on also falls down into the same place.

We get further instances of Mrs Pargeter calling on her late husband's underworld contacts. His address book is essentially Felix the Cat's bag of tricks: it can produce any expertise she requires at the time. The criminals, most of whom have now gone straight, never fail to say that they'll always be grateful to Mr Pargeter, and that he told them before he died to look after her if she ever needed anything.

Through all of this, she gets a pretty good outline of the motive for the murder, and is reasonably sure that one has been committed. She uses one of her husband's contacts to confirm this (not a spoiler, because the first scene we get in the book is right after the murder has been committed, from the deliberately shadowy POV of the murderer), and reluctantly and anonymously tips off the police. Their investigation somehow fails to turn up the fact that she's already been everywhere they're looking. We don't get names or even much description of the investigating officers, and we certainly don't get their point of view; they're a means to an end, and Mrs Pargeter puppets them remotely.

The small group of six executive houses in commuting distance to London is a hotbed of dirty secrets, meaning everyone has a motive for the murder. This is pretty much in line with the Golden Age detective playbook. The specifics of the small-minded characters and their secrets have changed in 50 or 60 years, but the general feel is similar.

Once again, as in the first book, Mrs Pargeter is herself in danger from the murderer before the book ends, and then decides that this isn't the place she wants to live, and prepares to move on.

I make it sound like I didn't enjoy it, but I did. It is clearly settling into a formula, though, and I'm not sure I'll continue to love the formula through eight books unless it gets changed up a bit.

Still four stars, but the last one is a bit smaller.

Book 3, Mrs Pargeter's Package, is set mostly in Greece, where Mrs P has gone on holiday with a recently widowed friend whose late husband did... something vague and possibly suspicious, not that Mrs P can fault her for that. Of course there's a murder ((view spoiler)), and of course Mrs P investigates, and of course she receives abundant help from several people with special talents who recite the now familiar liturgy about what a great man her late husband was, how he helped the person immensely, and how he told them to look after his widow when he was gone, and of course anything she needs will be at no charge.

This time, when Mrs P is in danger at the end, she's saved by an almost literal deus ex machina, which conveniently dispenses justice at the same time, meaning she doesn't need to involve the police at all. (There is a policeman involved, but he's covering up the murder, not trying to solve it.)

There's a red herring which stretched my suspension of disbelief considerably. Don't click on the spoiler unless you really want a spoiler. (view spoiler)

The minor characters continue to be caricatures who are looked down upon from the lofty height of the flawless Mrs Pargeter (if you don't count recklessness as a flaw). The narration is all in close third person from her POV, but in a couple of places there's a lot more detail about the doings of these minor characters than a not-particularly-interested observer could plausibly gather from overhearing their conversations.

This one drops to three stars. If the fourth book isn't better, I'm out.

Book 4, Mrs Pargeter's Pound of Flesh: OK, it's improved somewhat. To support another friend whose husband is inside (except when he slips out to visit her, with no apparent difficulty), Mrs P joins the friend in a country manor converted into a slimming spa. There's some pretty fierce satire on the slimming industry and the way it depends on making women feel bad about their bodies; Mrs P is notable for feeling good about her (generously proportioned) body, so it doesn't affect her, but it messes up her friend. Meanwhile, there's something dodgy going on which involves the suspected murder of an innocent Cambridge University student, the definite murder of a staff member at the spa, and apparently unfinished business from Mr Pargeter's past. I saw two of the "twists" coming half a mile off, but there is some suspense (Mrs P gets into danger again, though in a way that's somewhat comedic, and is rescued by someone who shouldn't have known where she was), and by conveniently forgetting about the potential consequences for one of her friends that have prevented justice being done earlier, justice is done.

It's still a bit hinky, but the three stars are edging towards a fourth this time, and I'm happy to carry on.

Book 5, Mrs Pargeter's Plot: The builder Mrs P is employing to build her dream home, who is of course one of her late husband's many associates, is stitched up for a murder he didn't commit, and Mrs P needs to find the real culprit in order to get him back on the job (and back to his wife, who has heavily lacquered copper hair and exquisitely bad taste in interior decorating, but doesn't deserve to have her husband in jail for something he didn't do). Complicating the situation is another ex-con who has had a kind of conversion experience while inside, and is now trying to make restitution to people he had previously wronged - but because he's extremely thick and has an odd angle on life, and is also trying to prove that he's developed a sense of humour (he hasn't), the unlikely ways in which he does this (using who knows what resources) cause more problems for the recipients of his misguided "help". It's a good source of humour; he may not be able to tell a joke competently, but he is himself a good joke, as long as you're not the one he's gifting with something wildly inappropriate and the opposite of helpful.

The humour takes it back up to four stars, and this time it doesn't take shortcuts to get through its plot.

Book 6, Mrs Pargeter's Point of Honour: For the first time in the series, Mrs P is living in the same situation as in the previous book, in a fancy hotel in London owned by another of her husband's many grateful former proteges. Instead of solving a murder, this time she's paying off a debt of honour, a promise her husband made to the widow of another of his crew. She has to return a bunch of stolen paintings to the people and institutions they were stolen from, without bringing the name of the deceased thief into disrepute. By the end of the book, there's also an element of revenge against some people who deserve punishment, not just for things they did but for things they planned to do.

There are clues in this one (from the technology references) that the timeline is slipping around. The first book was published in 1986, and implicitly took place then. At that point, Mr P had been dead about 5 years, if I remember correctly. This one was published in 1998, and Mr P has still been dead about 5 years, so only about a year at most has passed, but the technology referenced as having been used when he was alive is the technology of five years before 1998, not five years before 1986.

It continues to be highly unlikely and full of colourful characters, which is fun. There's an incompetent police inspector who is brilliantly portrayed. It feels a lot more like a heist (or reverse heist, in some respects), and I enjoy heists, so this one gets an easy four stars.

The timeline really becomes unanchored in Book 7, Mrs Pargeter's Principle. It was published in 2015, and again the technology references clearly tell us that we're in 2015. Several years have passed - Mrs P is now finally living in the house that was being slowly built in Mrs Pargeter's Plot, and has been for a little while, and Mr P has now been dead for "some years". But she's certainly not 29 years older than she was in the book published in 1986, which would make her 95; her age isn't specified, but it doesn't seem to be more than early 70s at the most.

Again, we're not solving a murder, but tidying up some unfinished business of Mr Pargeter's, some of it out of duty (looking after the daughter of a recently deceased former employee who'd deliberately dropped off the radar), some more out of curiosity (why, when Mrs P attends the funeral of someone whose name was in her husband's contact book but who none of his old colleagues seem to remember, is she warned off with threats from talking to the widow?) There are a couple of twists, but the main one is pretty obvious, and only by carrying the idiot ball do Mrs P's crew not tumble to it much earlier. Technology plays a significant role, including a completely implausible invention that causes zips (any zip, no preparation required, and no mechanism of any kind suggested) to drop when a remote control is pointed at them and activated. Also, there are magic numbers which, when entered into alarm systems or computers, bypass the need to know a password. Despite the many highly implausible elements and the obvious twist, it's a fun ride. Four stars, though the fourth one is maybe a bit small.

Book 8, Mrs Pargeter's Public Relations, is completely ridiculous and highly predictable, and receives three stars without the option of a fine. We also get more lazy, villainous Greek people, as in Book 2. There's another magic remote control, this one capable of opening (and subsequently closing) any padlock, regardless of whether it's a combination lock, an electronic lock, or an ordinary key lock, and once again there's no hint of how it works (because it breaks several laws of physics and the basic way that mechanisms work). Likewise with the magic software that Mrs P's hacker friend develops, which can somehow delete offline backups as well as the files on the computers she's actually hacked into. Both of these are well beyond implausible.

And, of course, once she has a magic padlock opener, every lock Mrs P encounters that she needs to get through is suddenly a padlock. The author tilts the playing field thoroughly to her advantage throughout, even when it's unnecessary, such as when by "serendipity" (authorial fiat) someone she was about to call calls her and spares her the slight trouble.

Mrs P is in danger twice. (view spoiler)

I saw the "twists" (including the second rescue) all coming a mile off, and correctly predicted well in advance of the revelations not only what crime was being committed but exactly what they were (view spoiler)

The series continues with two further books. My library has them, and I might read them at some point, even though so many of the books feature ridiculous plot devices, the "twists" are often patently obvious and the main character is overly perfect and given far too much authorial help. The average is a very low four or quite a high three stars; if the writing mechanics weren't so good I would be harsher.

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Sunday, 1 March 2026

Review: Three Sevens: A Detective Story

Three Sevens: A Detective Story Three Sevens: A Detective Story by Perley Poore Sheehan
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This book sets out to be serious and profound. Because it fails so badly at being profound, it's also just absurd enough that the serious part doesn't quite come off either. Despite the subtitle, it's really not a detective story except by an extremely generous definition that involves almost no on-screen detective work, by someone who is almost as far as it's possible to be from being any kind of official detective. (I picked it up out of the Project Gutenberg new books feed, even though I knew nothing about the author and there was almost no information, and no reviews, on Goodreads, because it said it was a detective story and I was prepared to give it a chance.)

It is an original premise, at least. The title doesn't, as I suspected, refer to a hand of cards, but to the prison number of the protagonist, 3777, real name Daniel Craig (no, not that one). He has allowed himself to be imprisoned under another name for a crime he didn't commit, because he felt sorry for the young man who did commit it and sympathetic to his reason, and also because he was in some despair after being expelled from college because of a moment of poor judgement. The book opens with him unjustly in solitary confinement because of a vengeful prison guard who he had annoyed in some way I've forgotten, probably by standing up to his injustice.

He receives (via trained cat) a smuggled saw, originally intended for the previous inhabitant of his cell, who has died. He saws his way out and masterminds a prison takeover, but what he didn't realize was that on that same day, the corrupt and cruel prison governor was being replaced by a reformer, who would have fixed up the issues that are driving his revolt. The new governor's daughter arrives in advance of her father, and is caught up in a riot that breaks out among the newly freed prisoners. Craig's intention is to let out the people he believes to be innocent, or who he thinks have served a long enough sentence and are harmless, and keep the bad ones, but this doesn't go as he'd hoped, and several dangerous criminals get loose. Meanwhile, he saves the young woman (she's about 18, but very competent and brave), and of course they fall for each other. They meet a total of four times in the course of the book, mostly briefly, but this constitutes a romance for purposes of subplot and Craig's inspiration, hence my "thin-romance" tag.

Craig himself goes on the lam, with a red notebook filled with details of the escaped convicts he swears to bring back, since it's his fault they're on the loose. He has a number of adventures in doing so, many of them pretty unlikely, especially the ones near the end, where he gets high-level assistance in the climactic capture of the last few crooks. Along the way, the narrator makes various generalizations about black people, Americans, men, and women, mostly complimentary, but generalizations nonetheless. There's a good twist at the end that ties a few things together, and although it's reliant on coincidence, I think the author pulls it off.

At its best, it's suspenseful and action-packed. At its worst, it's just silly, and there's more of that than there is of the good stuff. But there is some good stuff, and the premise is (as far as I know) original; there are worse century-old books you could be reading.

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Friday, 27 February 2026

Review: The Case of the Gilded Fly

The Case of the Gilded Fly The Case of the Gilded Fly by Edmund Crispin
My rating: 0 of 5 stars

This is what you get when a young man who has had more education than is good for him, and is smug about it, writes a book. "Edmund Crispin" is a pseudonym, but it perfectly conveys the exact kind of Englishman the author is. It's set in Oxford in the 1940s, which is where the author was studying at the time he wrote it, so he's following "write what you know" even if he sometimes does less well with "show, don't tell".

Very few of the numerous characters (all introduced in a lump, so it's hard to remember who is who) are at all admirable, definitely including the detective, and none of them are happy even before the murders start. This is articulated at some length and with considerable obscure literary reference, most of which failed to land for me because I don't have the exact education the author had. The detective blithely excuses some genuinely awful chosen behaviour, including what we would today call human trafficking, in other characters, while fiercely judging other people for simple human failings they can't help.

The point of view is omniscient, but mostly follows Nigel, a journalist who never seems to do any journalism. He is Watson to the detective's Sherlock, if Watson didn't like or respect Sherlock and found his eccentricities frustrating and overdone. He has a far-too-fast romance with one of the numerous secondary characters/suspects.

I kept reading mostly because I wanted to know how the crime had been done, and it turned out to be contrived and unlikely, as I'd feared. It was both carefully prepared for and also took advantage of a spontaneous situation that couldn't have been predicted, and then the murderer overcomplicated it.

"Overcomplicated" is a good description of the book as a whole. The style is baroque, which isn't to my taste, and that and the annoying characters (and narrator) and the rigged ending bring it down to three stars for me. The craft is not bad for a first novel, it's well edited apart from a couple of dangling modifiers, and it was popular both at the time of publication and since, but it wasn't a good fit for me, and I won't be reading more in the series.

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Sunday, 22 February 2026

Review: Dragons, Heists and Other Retirement Plans

Dragons, Heists and Other Retirement Plans Dragons, Heists and Other Retirement Plans by Meg Pennerson
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I went into this with high expectations - I love heists, generally enjoy dragons, and am reaching a stage of life where retirement plans are also of interest - but I was prepared to be disappointed, and unfortunately I was, somewhat. It isn't bad, but I felt it was lacking in a couple of ways.

A common complaint made against cozy fantasy is that it's boring. Now, I usually don't find it so - stakes don't have to be high and things don't have to be happening every second for me to enjoy a book. Actually, plenty happens (in a plot sense) in this one, but I never felt much of a sense of urgency or tension or suspense or even importance of the stakes until near the end. It meandered from one thing to the next, without the protagonists ever seeming to be in much danger or even to be strongly motivated. I'm not sure why this was; all of the elements were there. There was even a ticking clock after a while, something that had to be done within four days, but it still didn't feel as urgent as it should have. Perhaps it's something in the way the author conveys, or doesn't convey, the inner lives of the characters. The characters themselves, even though they had backstories and interests that should have made them more than just their archetype plus their plot role, still didn't feel to me like they had much depth, and it was probably for the same reason. I seldom got a sense of them feeling anything strongly, even when that's what was being described in narrative; it felt like I was being told it but not shown it.

Even when another, shorter ticking clock was introduced, I didn't find it plausible - it was one of those cinematic cliches where there's a very specific deadline after an exact amount of time for a phenomenon that will harm multiple people, even though if you think about it even for a second, the phenomenon concerned is something that will affect different people differently, and will affect all of them gradually. It's not a binary state of "after this exact second, everything will be irretrievably bad, but before that exact second, if we stop the phenomenon everyone will be perfectly fine almost immediately," but that's how it's represented.

But the book did have some original aspects, and wasn't just a rehearsal of standard tropes (despite occasionally making use of one). The protagonists are close female friends who, forty years before, at which time they were in their 30s, were a famous duo of criminals. That's where the heist comes in, though part of my disappointment was that we didn't really get to see the heist. We saw the heist fail, in a flashback right at the beginning, and we were told later on about how intricate it had been to set up, but that was it.

Largely because the heist failed - through the cheeky and crude intervention of another thief - the pair retired, one to keep magical cats and the other to get married to a solid, decent man and raise a son. She's now widowed. The story is about them coming out of retirement to clean up the continuing mess that their failure 40 years before led to, in the course of which they re-encounter their old rival and discover that he was a dupe of an unscrupulous businessman, and is now a rather pathetic old man.

I did appreciate the avoidance of one common trope. (view spoiler) Other people probably won't like it for much the same reasons that I do.

I also enjoyed the fact that the cats (and dragons) can talk to each other, but their humans don't understand them, even though they understand the humans. It provides a second set of viewpoints in the scenes, and most of the humour.

There's a subplot, which comes up near the beginning and at the end but not in between, about someone who is raising property taxes and driving older people out of their homes when they can't pay. (The word "foreclosure" is used, which isn't quite right; that's when you can't pay a mortgage. When you can't pay taxes, that's seizure.) I assume that's setup for the next book, since it isn't fully resolved or even given much attention in this one.

I wasn't engaged enough, though, to definitely want to continue with the series. It has potential and originality, but something in the style didn't quite connect for me. I increasingly make the distinction these days between sound craft and human appeal. The best books have both; a lot of books I read have human appeal, or, put another way, an engaging story, but fail to back it up with sound craft. This one has decent craft and some good ideas, but as a story it didn't reach me.

I received a copy via Netgalley for review, which may not be exactly the final version.

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Thursday, 19 February 2026

Review: The Hermit Of Turkey Hollow: The Story Of An Alibi, Being An Exploit Of Ephraim Tutt, Attorney & Counselor At Law

The Hermit Of Turkey Hollow: The Story Of An Alibi, Being An Exploit Of Ephraim Tutt, Attorney & Counselor At Law The Hermit Of Turkey Hollow: The Story Of An Alibi, Being An Exploit Of Ephraim Tutt, Attorney & Counselor At Law by Arthur Cheney Train
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

A wandering, sprawling and often amusing recounting of a trial for murder.

For the prosecution, the recently-appointed county prosecutor. What nobody knows is that in order to afford the bribe that got him the job, he has embezzled the trust fund that assists in the support of the accused, a harmless indigent known as Skinny the Tramp. He then had to borrow the money that was due to Skinny as his six-monthly interest payment.

For the defense, Ephraim Tutt, a series character of the author's. He's motivated by a love for justice and a belief that his client is innocent. He's been called in by the town lodge, of which Skinny was once a member; they also believe that he's innocent, even though the sheriff, who's the head of the lodge, is a key witness for the prosecution.

Central to the case are two facts. There are eight witnesses who swear Skinny was in the town three miles away at 4pm; and the lumberjack who found the victim, the hermit of the title, breathing his last noted that the hermit's clock was showing 4pm when he expired. A perfect alibi - if the clock was running at the time, and on this point the defense hinges.

There's an uncomfortable night-time expedition over bad roads in an unreliable car (this is 1920) to check this point with the lumberjack, who's left town for another job. This trip turns out to be for nothing; he can't be located.

There are some suspenseful courtroom moments, and some good reading of his opponent by Tutt. Overall, though, it's not a tight plot, and the prose is sometimes verbose (as you'd expect from a lawyer). There's some casual racism towards Roma people and black people, and a good deal of contempt directed at the "hicks" in the small town. It was entertaining in its way, but not outstanding, and from me it gets three stars.

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Wednesday, 18 February 2026

Review: Twig's Traveling Tomes

Twig's Traveling Tomes Twig's Traveling Tomes by Gryffin Murphy
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This one reads as if it was consciously crafted to appeal to the Platonic ideal of the cozy fiction fan, and indeed it is being published because it drew the attention of the "tastemaker" who discovered Travis Baldree. My cozy fantasy bingo card filled up quickly: tea, love of books, small business, gender and relationship diversity in all the usual ways (except that nobody is clearly trans), broadly D&D-style setting, quirky introvert protagonist being pushed out of her comfort zone by events, supportive love interest, cute familiar (though not until halfway through).

For me, contrarian that I am, this was almost a downside. It's not all the way to "made from box mix," but it does fall into my category of "if you like this sort of thing, this is definitely one." I personally prefer fresher ideas rather than variations on an established theme, but I know I'm in a minority there, and lots of people will love this unreservedly.

The worldbuilding, while not startlingly original, has had a bit more work than is often the case with cozy. Four kingdoms themed around the traditional four elements, elemental and natural magic, approximately the usual D&D species, though elves have brightly coloured skin and gnomes brightly coloured hair.

The editing is also a bit above average; there are several of the usual issues (occasional missing past perfect tense, "may" in past tense narration instead of "might," dialog sometimes punctuated incorrectly), but fewer examples than I usually see. The biggest problem is the vocabulary. The author uses a number of words that don't have quite the right connotation (the most obvious example being "amorously" for "lovingly" when it isn't sexual love), and a couple that sound similar to the word she means but are a different word, like "hurdling" for "hurtling" and "clamored" for "clambered". Both of those are relatively common confusions, and there may yet be more editing before publication; I had a pre-publication version via Netgalley for review.

The romance begins with instant attraction, then there's a long will-they-won't-they period (about three-quarters of the book) with minimal justification given. There's some very steamy kissing and some innuendo, but nothing more than that on screen.

There's nothing so badly wrong with it that I feel justified in dropping it to three stars, but I'm giving it four a bit grudgingly. Put that down to my curmudgeonly nature and dislike of the expected choice.

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Monday, 16 February 2026

Review: Look to the Lady

Look to the Lady Look to the Lady by Margery Allingham
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Kicks off with a great burst of fascinating, suspenseful, apparently inexplicable events, explains them, and continues that cycle until the end.

There's a wonderful contrast between Campion's persona of an upper-class twit who doesn't even quote classic literature (like Wodehouse's characters), but the cliches of the advertising industry, and his actual keen intelligence and wonderful ability to organize surprising events. This is assisted by his wide circle of lowlife contacts, so not only does he have a mask over his real personality, but he lives two distinct lives in different spheres (using a number of different pseudonyms, of which "Albert Campion" is one; his real first name, apparently, is Rudolph, and his surname a famous one from an old aristocratic house).

Like the previous book in the series, this one takes place around a very ancient country manor in a remote rural district of England. This one, though, protects an ancient chalice on behalf of the Crown, using a combination of subterfuge and what appears to be a supernatural guardian.

The action blasts along, with real danger at plenty of suspenseful moments, the characters are varied and amusing, and the title is a big hint at the villain. It's like an Edgar Wallace, but more clever, and I'm a big fan of Wallace even with his pulpy limitations. I'm looking forward to more in this fortunately long series.

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Thursday, 12 February 2026

Review: There's Not a Bathing Suit in Russia: & Other Bare Facts

There's Not a Bathing Suit in Russia: & Other Bare Facts There's Not a Bathing Suit in Russia: & Other Bare Facts by Will Rogers
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Rogers was a comedian, known as the "Cowboy Philosopher," and this is a mixture of comic observation delivered in a down-home manner with actually insightful reflections on Russia. His introduction says that everyone has been writing about Russia lately, and the difference with this book is that he doesn't claim to know anything about the topic, but he's being too modest; he actually went there (unlike some of the contemporary pundits he pokes fun at), and has some thoughts that still resonate today.

The Russian revolution was still relatively recent at the time, and he first discusses the Russian refugees he encountered in Paris. All of them claimed to be dukes or higher, and his reflection is that they obviously hadn't had those positions based on any merit, since they're doing menial jobs and not even doing them very well. No wonder Russia was in a mess if they were in charge.

On the other hand, he skewers socialists for being much better at giving speeches and publishing newspapers than they are at running anything. Nobody could run a country the size of Russia very well, and they aren't doing so. This isn't entirely their fault, but if someone isn't good at something, they should admit it and leave off, is his opinion. Not to mention: "We all know a lot of things that would be good for our Country, but we wouldent want to go so far as propose that everybody start shooting each other till we got them. A fellow shouldent have to kill anybody just to prove they are right." Something that more and more people in today's America should probably be reminded of.

The first section, where he's clowning around and being satirical and describing his journey before he gets to Russia, is less interesting than his observations after he gets there, but it is fun in its own way. The whole thing is short, and well worth reading.

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Review: The Good Comrade

The Good Comrade The Good Comrade by Una Lucy Silberrad
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Not, as you might assume from the title, a socialist novel.

The "Good Comrade" is the name given to the McGuffin, a rare blue daffodil, but it's named by the heroine in honour of the three men who love her, and one of them also independently thought of her by the same title. The book is a reflection on the nature of relationships, mostly between men and women, but also in families, and between unrelated people with no romantic connection. Being English, it also has a strong theme related to social class, that most English way of people relating to other people.

I picked it up from Project Gutenberg a while ago on the recommendation of a fellow member of the Codex writers' forum. That forum is for speculative fiction writers, but it isn't spec-fic, or my other main reading genre, mystery/thriller; if anything, it's a romance, but a very unusual one. The big strength of the book, as of its heroine, is that it's unexpected and not like others. (Authentically not like, rather than "not like other girls".)

The heroine, Julia, comes from a family that has fallen into relative poverty from its already very minor social status because of the father's gambling problem. He was encouraged to leave the army with the rank of captain, which he still uses. In English literature, a retired army officer only having made captain often indicates that he was either unpromotable or terminated his career early for probably dodgy reasons, and in this case it's both. (Christie's Captain Hastings is an exception.)

The family, however, do everything they can to put up a good front and conceal their fall. Their drawing room, for example, is better furnished than the rest of the house, since that's the part visitors see. Julia, the middle daughter, sees this for the trumpery it is, and is the only one who has much gumption or tries to do anything other than marry for (relatively minor) advantage. She's not as good-looking as her two sisters, but I found it fully plausible that several men fell in love with her anyway, because she's such an interesting person - intelligent and not overly bound by convention (including, it's remarked by one of her admirers, the conventions of the usual unconventional person, the bohemian - she doesn't have that pose either).

This is probably why she goes on a day's walk in his company. They've become friends, non-romantic, and enjoy each other's company - they are "good comrades," in fact. This occurs in the Dutch village where Julia is working as a paid companion in the house of a bulb grower, a prosperous merchant who loves his trade for its own sake, as does his son, rather than purely for the money they can make from it. The pair, Julia and her male friend, get lost on their walk when a fog comes down, and spend the night outside together, perfectly innocently - but her Calvinistic Dutch employers are obliged to treat her as having compromised herself utterly and dismiss her without a reference. (This is 1907.)

The plot doesn't follow convention much more than Julia does, though it's not experimental; it just doesn't go in the expected directions, and is mostly unpredictable, though I did spot what Julia's next move was likely to be after her dismissal. (view spoiler)

There are some great character observations, of Julia's father, of his friend, of Julia's several suitors, and of course of Julia herself. Her character develops and is revealed through the choices she makes, and she's an admirable person without being perfect at all. Also, various characters take action and are inspired by each other, or their ideas about each other. The characters and their relationships are the great strength of the book.

Its weakness is that the author's style is patchy. She can convey a sense of place wonderfully, but she doesn't write beautiful prose for the most part, and is difficult to quote because her well-observed points tend to be a paragraph or two long rather than a sentence. She's also rather given to comma-splicing. That kept the book off the Platinum tier of my annual list, but it's certainly worthy of five stars as far as I'm concerned.

According to Wikipedia, Silberrad was thought of as a "middlebrow" writer, who steered a course firmly between the conservatism that stood for the way things currently were and the radicalism that wanted to burn it all down, aiming along what would actually be the trajectory of the 20th century: gradual improvement in various social measures, particularly the equality and freedom of women. That's probably why I like her book. I myself concluded long ago that, as well as being middle-aged and middle-class, I'm also middlebrow; no point in denying it, might as well embrace it. And my own politics are neither radical nor reactionary. Julia is just the kind of intelligent (though not necessarily highly educated), capable and determined character I enjoy reading about, and I recommend the book unreservedly.

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Monday, 9 February 2026

Review: Tusks, Tails and Teacakes

Tusks, Tails and Teacakes Tusks, Tails and Teacakes by T.L. Stone
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

If the cover and the format of the title didn't clue you in, this is cozy fantasy of the Legends and Lattes variety. Sword-and-sorcery/D&D world (with tieflings carefully renamed as "hellkin" and tabaxi as "panthera" for legal distinctness), in which an adventurer leaves the life and settles down in a nice little town running a hospitality business. It isn't just one of the several clones, though; it has its own original plot and characters in the same subgenre, so if you're a Travis Baldree fan you can read it and enjoy it without feeling like it's just an inferior ripoff.

The reason for the protagonist, a half-elf rogue named Lira, to come to a small-town tavern and start working there is a strong one, not less so for the fact that it's a version of the inciting incident for half the cozy mystery/romance books set in small towns: she's originally from there, and left after her grandmother died, in order to go on the road with an adventuring party. Now, in the wake of the loss of a companion (told in the prologue), her party has broken up, and she's come back to get something she stashed when she left with them originally some years previously: her grandmother's recipe book, all she has of the woman who raised her apart from the memories. Unfortunately, she buried it in the tavern cellar, and someone has since built a stone wall on top of the spot (it never becomes clear who, or exactly why, or when), complicating the retrieval.

Presumably at some point she came back, because there's also some gold buried with the book, and she didn't have any when she left with the party; it was apparently from a subsequent quest. This is a bit of continuity that didn't fully make sense to me.

As she works, along with a dwarf woman who she caught attempting to rob the tavern, to tidy the place up and bring in more clientele as a cover for plotting to get her book back, she discovers that she likes it here and likes doing this and is making friends. But then the past comes back to bite her, and there's a confrontation, in which one of my not-favourite tropes occurs. (view spoiler)

Before I proceed to more critique, I want to say that I did enjoy this considerably. The worldbuilding, while off-the-shelf, felt a lot less like scenery flats than in some other books in the genre, the plot mostly made sense and progressed organically, the characters felt like they belonged in their world rather than ours (although with some up-to-date attitudes that are de rigueur in the genre), and the wee beastie - a stoat, not a racoon as per the blurb - was endearing. It managed to sit firmly in its subgenre without just being made from box mix, and shows decent writing ability.

The stove pinged my worldbuilding geekery briefly, though. Both the oven and a "burner" on the stove get "turned off," implying that this isn't a coal or woodburning range but (probably) gas. Where is the gas coming from? It's not magic, because in this setting magic has become relatively uncommon, after the teaching of magic was forbidden some decades previously. It just seemed not to fit well with the general tech level.

The editing is just a little scruffy, too. Most of the issues are with commas where they shouldn't be, and most of those are between adjectives that are not coordinate, but lots of people make that mistake. Most of the other commas where they shouldn't be are after "of course" when it's just confirming a previous statement; word processor grammar checkers are not sophisticated enough to distinguish that from the case where you do need a comma, because you're providing completely new information. Apart from these usage issues, though, there are a number of words that are either mistyped or not typed at all, and therefore missing from the sentences that require them. I've seen plenty of books far worse than this, and I didn't spot any vocabulary being used incorrectly, but it has room for improvement.

The other thing that I wasn't completely sold on was the rapid progression of a couple of romances, one of which hit marriage and the other moving in together after about a month of dating in both cases. And in the case of the second one, it was between people who hadn't known each other long or very well before they started dating (I may as well call it that, because even though that's not a concept that was around in the time periods of our world that sword & sorcery approximately evokes, relationships in this book's world follow modern practice). There was no plot reason for it to be only a month, either; it could have been longer. I won't give it my "weak-romance" tag, because that's for people who decide to get married after barely spending any time together, and this isn't that, but it does seem precipitate.

So there are ways in which it could be better (from my point of view; some or all of these things may not bother you whatsoever), but I liked it, and want to continue with the series.

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Sunday, 8 February 2026

Review: Majera

Majera Majera by Gideon Marcus
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Six years after the publication of the first book, what looks like being the final book in this four-book series is here (for certain values of "here"; I received a pre-publication review copy from the author, because I'd reviewed the previous books in the series).

Time for a retrospective.

Book 1: Pacy, dramatic, scientifically reasonably plausible. An accidental circumstance means a group of young people have to work together to overcome a serious issue and get back home, and they work together well. There's some light flirting that doesn't come to anything.

Book 2: People who aren't action heroes have to cope with rescues, escapes and drama caused by engineers not thinking about safety (that part I found implausible). There's a coincidence in which they arrive at the exact right moment to be of help, but I forgave it because of good pacing and overall good execution. We learn that all of the human crew are bisexual, though romance and sex are emotional complications during the action rather than a focus.

Book 3: Still lots of action, lucky and unlucky chance, and the protagonist seems to distort narrative probability around her so that a rag-tag young crew can achieve what they shouldn't be able to. There's a political dimension, but they choose sides based on emotional connection rather than principle, which I thought was a missed opportunity for more depth. Some pairing up occurs, and more is attempted but fails because it's not the right time.

Book 4: Some action still, and again they arrive just in time to help after a disaster (this one probably centuries in the making), but can't really do much other than call in help from their government this time. In the course of their investigation of the circumstances, they're in some danger a couple of times but manage to avert it relatively easily; the circumstances are more significant in activating the characters' past trauma than in actually threatening their lives or physical wellbeing. We get some theories about what happened, but no definitive answer. There's a much stronger focus on relationships, which are now poly as well as bi, with clearly implied (but not described) sex, and the biggest question is (view spoiler).

For me - and others will no doubt differ - there was a steady, though not sharp, decline in how much I liked the books through the series. More coincidence, less focus on action and more on relationships, and in this last book less of a compelling threat than previously and less working together in desperate circumstances to resolve it. It doesn't drop out of the four-star level; it's still solid YA space opera, well executed. But for me, the first book was the best, and the others were, while still good, not quite at the same level.

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Thursday, 5 February 2026

Review: Wildflower: A Novel

Wildflower: A Novel Wildflower: A Novel by Becky Jenkinson
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The worldbuilding is not a strength in this one, which isn't unusual in its particular type of current fantasy, but I felt the story was solid.

The character names are a classic "Aerith and Bob" situation, some of them botanical or otherwise nature-related, some of them from various origins in our world (including several from the Bible, in a setting where religion is conspicuous by its almost total absence and where the two brief passing references are to Standard Fantasy Paganism), and some completely made-up fantasy names, with no obvious schema to account for the mixture. The characters themselves mostly feel like mid-2020s people cosplaying (or, in at least one scene, just wearing modern clothing) in a generic ren-faire setting, and the setting itself feels too small, with places that seem like they ought to be a long way off instead being in easy walking distance. The review copy I had didn't have the map yet, but based on the travel times mentioned, the whole kingdom is about the size of the six boroughs of New York City (roughly 35 miles across). And yet a character who has long wished to visit a wonderful library just to the north has never found time to make the two-hour journey by horse (meaning about 10 or at the most 15 miles), and an afternoon's walk from the citadel, which occasionally gets snow flurries, takes you not only to but also up a mountain with a permanent snowcap and blizzard weather. The small size of the kingdom presumably accounts for the fact that, although there's a royal family (consisting of a king, a queen, and two princes), there doesn't appear to be an aristocracy, and both the queen and the older prince's fiancé are commoners.

The flower lore is interesting, though it has an obvious real-world model in the Victorian "language of flowers". It's the most original part of the worldbuilding.

The magic system is largely undefined, and what it can and can't do appears to be driven entirely by what the plot requires.

On the upside, even the pre-publication copy I received via Netgalley for review was well edited, apart from the occasional dangling modifier, fumbled idiom or clumsy phrasing, and a few cases where two words that are not synonyms are used as if they are. The emotional beats are sound. The plot is a proper plot, not just a slice of life, and it's driven by the decisions of the characters, some of which are bad ones such as real people make, and they make them for believable reasons. It's cozy in its presentation (after all, it's about a magical florist), but it has stakes and tension and losses and tragic backstory and desperate struggles and a strong climax.

The main character, Felicity, was born with a curse which prevents her from saying anything that isn't the truth. The rules seem to change a bit during the book; at one point she can say something that is her opinion, even if it's not commonly shared, but later on it's as if the very fact that she can say something means it's definitely true. Can't she be mistaken? Of course, this is also the point at which people stop believing her, because she's saying things they don't want to believe.

The queen has been using her as a snitch, which has made her unpopular, but when we see her being interviewed by the queen she's perfectly capable of concealing a lot of information, so that's a tell-versus-show mismatch, what I sometimes call a decal.

Perhaps the biggest strength of the book is that it depicts Felicity's inner life so well. Because she's unpopular for her truth-telling, she tries to be reliable and compliant and trustworthy and non-confrontational and a people-pleaser, and stuffs her feelings down and lets people walk all over her (like her only friend, a rather self-involved extravert who strongly reads "bard," though I don't think he has an occupation other than "prince's fiancé"). All of this starts coming apart quite early in the book, so we're, again, more told about her people-pleasing than we are shown, but it is emotionally accurate to someone who is this way. There are some highly emotional scenes, for Felicity and her love interest both, but they're justified by events and not just the characters being over-dramatic.

Emotionally sound writing balanced by basic and unconvincing worldbuilding and some elements that didn't ring quite true brings this in at three stars. A lot of people who don't demand much from worldbuilding will love it unreservedly, I'm sure.

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