In a small town in the English countryside, the head of a well-liked local farmer is violently separated from his body. Holding the axe that facilitated the act is his daughter Roberta, sitting nearby and exclaiming her lack of regret over it all. But things don’t add up, and Scotland Yard sends inspector and eighth earl of Pudsey-Le-Stodge Thomas Lynley to crack the case. He is accompanied by bundle of nerves and 8th season Eastenders character Barbara Havers. Can Havers put aside her dislike for Lynley? Can Lynley get over his past trauma?
First of all: can they all just get over themselves? Please?
With that out of the way: I didn’t hate reading this novel. The mystery itself is fairly solid, even if it doesn’t appear to be going anywhere any time soon. That’s fine; I don’t mind a slow pace and a hefty tome as long as it’s going anywhere, and I prefer it over books that tumble along at a break-neck pace, sacrificing coherence for shock and awe. And the concept, at least, is interesting: Lynley, an aristocrat, wants to be useful and eschews a life of luxury in order to, I don’t know, stoop to the level of the common people only to be paired up with a woman who is both very, very working class and very, very prickly.
Alas, that is also where the problems begin; it’s as if George buys into that myth of the benevolent aristocracy a bit too much. Everyone with a title is both exceedingly attractive as well as hypercompetent and kind-hearted, whereas the lower and middle classes consistently have their flaws: they lie, they cheat, they hit their wives, they are crass and brazen and have bad taste in food, music, art. The author undercuts her own premise by this somewhat bizarre absolutism. As for Havers, it’s an interesting concept to combine a very beautiful and very upper crusty man with an objectively ugly woman, but emotionally she’s all over the place. She’s all angry knee jerk reflex and no nuance, which makes her chosen profession an odd choice. The entire thing also gets very emotional at the end. I suppose I could make a crack about the author being American and not mastering the stiff upper lip, but that would be too easy.
Aside from the unsubtle class warfare and the unsubtle characters, there’s an interesting story to be had. It’s colourful, mournful yet occasionally funny, and the characters, for all their faults, aren’t dislikable; Lynley is a bit on the nose sometimes, but there is enough to keep the reader’s interest. The resolution of the plot feels a little unfinished and maudlin, but at the same time it’s genuinely engrossing.
I picked this up because I heard the BBC is bridging out a new adaptation. I grew up watching the early aughts series, and though it’s… not great (Nathaniel Parker couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag, Sharon Small was good but completely miscast and they made Helen the most annoying character to ever annoy, but at least it gave us baby Henry Cavill), it has sentimental value to me. I’d never read the books, though. I was a little disappointed but at the same time, there is potential here. How that develops remains to be seen.