Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #1275781 in Books
• Original language: English
• Binding: Paperback
• 208 pages

John Harvey, "The Crime Writer's Crime Writer," Guardian
Bill James's Harpur and Iles books are deliciously unsavoury: a brilliant combination of almost Jacobean savagery and sexual betrayal with a tart comedy of contemporary manners. A stylised world that is several moves from reality, and about as real as you can get.

Customer Reviews

Interesting structure, but a disappointment.
First of all, you certainly can't say that James is unoriginal in how he structures this novel. The idea of alternate flashbacks between Harpur dealing with Megan's death and Megan's POV - as she is about to meet her lover and later, upon returning home, about to meet her killer - is quite engrossing at first. The problem is that this device quickly wears out its welcome. There is simply too much of Harpur squabbling with everyone and various internal debates going on. Just Megan's deliberations standing by her car over what she should do if a stranger is stalking her is overwrought and unbelievable. I suspect that normal people in the same situation would spend less time deliberating and more time taking action!

Unfortunately, the characters themselves, although well-realized, are completely unsympathetic, which made it very difficult to feel for any of them. Even the stiff way Harpur's daughters speak seem entirely unconvincing, although maybe this is because I'm unfamiliar with certain British idioms. But if this is British wit then I think I'll stick with the American brand!

Finally, the plot itself still has me a bit confused as to motive.

The really big question here is why so many gifted British mystery writers have such a cynical, cold view of the world these days. Perhaps it relates to what British columnist Jeremy Paxman has to say in his book, "The English" - The English feel they are doomed. "Roses, roses" provides a splendid example of this.