The main character is lost in a sea of cut outs and caricatures--most with really bad accents. But, accents aside, the story is just a big, lumbering lummox of a thing; tedious and ill-conceived. The author has forced outrageous stupidity into the Detective Witherspoon character--a SY detective!-- for the purpose of creating the Mrs Jeffries (smart servant helps hapless employer while giving employer all glory and making same believe he is the smart one) character. Yawn.
I made it through the South Texas for American accent on one of the 10000 minor characters- because, I've heard much worse- but the Frenchie French-French maid did me in.
Mrs. Jeffries, taken out of the employ of the buffoon SY detective, and allowed to solve cases on her own, could be of interest. Even the narrator seemed to recognize that this role deserved her best effort. But she (Mrs J) just labors and labors the point of 'oh, sirrrh; aren't you clever..?' Like a mother encouraging a backward child through sheer, slavish indulgence. Maddening.
After some time has passed, I might try a book far down in the Mrs Jeffries series, just to see if her author ever turned her loose
Josephine Bailey does an adequate job with most of the female characters in this work, although she delivers a rather wilted and insipid Laura- but I nearly had to give this wonderful book down during offering of Mrs Mickleson's account. Has to be heard to be fully appreciated, ugh, but sounds as if she is speaking down a long pipe-- tones bearing down on air (think Jan Brady as a fussy noblewoman down at heel and full of pride). Her vocals would have sent poor Mr Fairlie to his grave!
Simon, yes. Ms. Bailey, doubtful- depends upon the story.
I simply expected more of Dame Judi- as she was given first billing in Audible's synopsis (in list of narrators).
Yes; the man was brilliant.
Opening scenes, I suppose. It does labor on toward the conclusion.
Mary Roberts Rinehart is one of my favorite American writers of the light or 'cozy' mystery story, as well as a master of the sardonic style of journal-telling format.
I have read this book a few times; it is somewhat convoluted and maybe not MRR's best.
The Roberts Rinehart heroines deserve MUCH better! A narrator who is as familiar with MRR's style as many of her admirers and readers. Also, one who does not think a middle-aged woman has the vocality of a septua- or even octogenarian.
It should have been; however, I hope it will not be the first try by many readers of MRR's books.
I had been almost angry in the past at Flo Gibson's aging of MRR's middleaged characters- these are strong women, full of wit and sarcasm, daring, and even romance. Yet Flo gave the 80 year-old's quaver to every one of them. In the case of Tish, perhaps, this was acceptable--but not for ALL. Some of these women end up in a romance by story's end with the detective, investigator, etc., of the story--and, incidentally, these same-aged male characters are given a sound normal to a middle aged man. Therefore, I was pleased to see a new name for narration when I found MRR's offerings on Audible.com. Alas, this narrator apparently learned at the knee of Flo!
The murder just does not make sense. There is no meat in it, nothing to serve as catharsis, or even reward, for trudging through the mid-1970s hippie trappings (as imagined, clearly, by someone not of the tribe. And the talked singing passages--cringe. More importantly, the victim, introduced immediately, is summarily abandoned, remaining a nonentity for the balance of this loose tale. By the time (finally) the murderer is revealed and the scene described, I had ceased really to care. And the misinformed use of marijuana as psychotic motivator just seems so silly. Bad trip all the way.
Michael Bryant: Thank you for NOT singing; you did your best with the talk-sing. Still; ugh.
Coherence, an outline, and a reduction of force (living and dead) As I had enjoyed the two other Father Christmas mysteries available through Audible, I looked forward to a pleasant listen with Ten Lords.. Alas. The appearance of the labyrinth in the story setting might have been a warning. Granted, any mystery worth air time has twists and turns; but the shifting accounts, behaviors, alibis and characters- many of whom are known by multiple names!--is like the labyrinth once one is properly lost: nothing seems real or accountable. I was hard pressed to keep in mind even the name and significance of the murder victim--THIS one, not the 4 or 5 others who keep popping up with apparent relevance (as, on a ouija board- ugh). When the two-named girl came on the scene to add her complication, labyrinth turned to maelstrom. Let me off!
Yes; but not for a while, and not without numerous strongly positive reviews.
Steve West is lovely forMartha Grimes' Richard Jury mysteries. He was, however, not at his best with this reading, strident and urgent too much of the time. He really did bring Max to life, though- I felt I could see him and like him. Too babyish, perhaps, with Miranda. Oh, yes, and Canadians do NOT sound like MidWesterners who've spent a lot of time in Alabama!
Ms Gilpin must be as provoked as by now I am with Madrin's (sp?) stuttering letters to her mother. In print, are the words actually CROSSED OUT?? No one types or writes letters that way; ridiculous. Ridiculous that anytime the character will use a word of more than 2 syllables, the author refuses to let her get it right the first time--Madrin's poor mother, having to sort through all the blunders, EVERY DAY.
Disappointment, of these; recognition of time wasted. And, it must be said, although I am not proud to admit it, I was completely put off (off put?) by * SPOILER ALERT * Father Tom's bedroom escapade, and continued mention of arousal. I've just never thought of him 'that way'
Just once more, to all Brit narrators, beloved as you are: Not all Americans come from Texas, S Carolina, and/or Tennessee. Just as annoying to the American ear, as must be the American narrators' habit of making all UK dwellers either cockneys or dowager duchesses. But I still love you all!
It is difficult to stay involved in this story line- so unusual with a Rendell offering- because it seems that fully 2/3 of the characters are long deceased. Never having met either possible victims or presumed killer/killers; I can hardly be spellbound by the working out of this puzzle (cannot call it thriller)
Wexford, of course.
I can only assume that Simon Brett is an eccentric millionaire who edits and publishes his own writings, utterly without benefit of additional opinion.
Plot very scatty; also, see below
Simon Black's parents, decidedly dead when first we met him, are here miraculously resurrected to spoil him and attend his wedding--and with no fanfare, marveling, or explanation given.
Depends on cast
Finally, Ms Keith has realized that not all Americans have southern accents--praise be! In Busy Body, she gave the residents of Philadelphia inappropriate and definite drawls. ugh
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