1975 historical detective fiction; sixth of Lovesey's novels of
Sergeant Cribb, policeman in Victorian London. Two thefts during
séances conducted by the latest fashionable medium attract the
attention of the police, but when the next séance ends in a death,
mere spiritualism is clearly not the only deception going on.
This is spiritualism in the tradition of the Fox Sisters, with
none of the connections to the reforming movements that were
historically its only redeeming feature. Here, it's a combination of
fashionable party entertainment and, for some, serious research into
questions of life after death on which conventional religion seemed to
be failing to make much progress.
As one expects from Lovesey, everyone is at least mildly unlikeable
except for the detective. They ignore their wives in favour of their
collections of nude paintings; they entertain strange men while their
husbands are occupied; and of course some of them murder. The
situation is carefully set up so that pretty much any of the suspects
could have done the deed, though the whole business did seem rather
fragile and dependent on chance, and I'm not at all convinced by the
murder method.
But this is more of a character study than a puzzle story, especially
if you're already familiar with the tricks of the medium rather than
coming to them afresh. (Well, I suppose in 1975 those tricks weren't
universal knowledge.) There's little sense of suspense, and while one
supposes that murderers have to be caught it sometimes feels as though
there's no particular virtue in doing so.
I still find it odd how a small comment can break suspension of
disbelief – as I noticed before with London Falling. In this case it
was the instruction to "cut along to Sloane Square and take the
Metropolitan line to Praed Street". Fine, except that: it was the
Metropolitan Railway, not the Metropolitan Line, which name was given
in 1933; and there was never a station at Praed Street as distinct
from Paddington, though some years later there were briefly plans to
build one. Apart from that… the thing is, it's all unnecessary! All
the character had to say was something like "go to X's house on Praed
Street, and take the Underground Railway so that you can warm up a
little". I can't help feeling that Lovesey is trying too hard to show
off his research.
Cribb mostly manages to be likeable, even if his relations with his
boss Inspector Jowett prefigure those of Peter Diamond with ACC
Georgina Dallymore, and there's a reasonable leavening of humour
throughout the business. I'm not immediately inspired to read more in
the series, but the book does its job and leaves a pleasant aftertaste.
I read this for Past Offences'
1975 month. Followed by Swing, Swing Together.
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