I'm afraid I found this rather lackluster despite James' reputation as a first-rate, literate mystery writer. It's the second book I've read by P.D. James, my first being the first Adam Dalgiesh mystery, Cover Her Face, which I found similarly unimpressive. I did think this mystery better constructed, one which, unlike that other one, held together with no holes I could find. But it's a rather unremarkable architecture, like a sturdy generic suburban house indistinguishable from others on the street.
The narrative flows well, and I did note James has a gift for rendering setting, and for conveying characters and atmosphere through their surroundings and possessions. She conveys pathos by describing a grease stain on a wall in one instance, or a sour smell of cheap perfume in another case. It's a fairly clean, readable style even if I don't care much for the author's tendency to bounce madly between points of view--even mid paragraph. James did keep me guessing. In the first "book" of 80 pages or so she takes us through the points of view of several suspects, showing us various possible motives before a body is even found and until the end, she juggles the suspects and throws out enough red herrings to keep a reader wondering. In fact, I'd say too many red herrings. It strains credibility so many had such disparate motives all connected with this one lab.
However, when I compare James to my favorite mystery authors, she just doesn't shine to me. Adam Dalgliesh, competent and insightful as he may be, feels bland, and a background as a poet isn't enough to distinguish him. He doesn't have the flashy brilliance of a Sherlock Holmes, the comic touches of a Hercule Poirot or Amelia Peabody, the charm of a Lord Peter Wimsey or ability to endear of Mary Russell or Patrick Kenzie. There isn't here the jaw-dropping brilliant clockwork plot of an Agatha Christie, or the impact of Josephine Tey or ability to move me like Elizabeth George.
Maybe Dalgliesh, or the two novels with him I've read, don't display James' gifts at her best. But at this point I'm not inclined to read more. It's not a bad book at all--well-written and psychologically insightful and if I were the sort that read mystery books like peanuts, I might be picking up another. But this book isn't one to tempt me into reading more James when there are so many good books out there unread.
