A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, my discovery of Elizabeth George's novels sparked a decade of intense detective-story reading. Most of these stories were streamlined page-turners and I did, indeed, grow weary of them eventually.
Picking this one up again, I can still easily see the attraction. Winning characters with colourful private lives + an eventful plot = A forgettable, yet virtually unputdownable book.
This time around I also unfortunately noticed the highly melodramatic language, the construed dialogue and the artifice of the plot.
This is one of the first novels in the Lynley-series, so it is passably short (400 p).
Very soon, Californian George's need to flaunt her skills in British civilisation had her novels swell up to more than the double, which is way too much of a good thing.
This was a pleasant vacation-read. I might chew down another one before summer is over.