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Coasts along on the "charm" of its amateur sleuth, psychiatrist Mrs Bradley, and a mildly intriguing murder in a Cotswold village that has neither much true local colour, nor a sense of the time period. Very disappointing.
Well, I finished it -- this is a mediocre effort, by a Golden Age crime writer who has done better things. I pressed on to the end because, based on other Mrs Bradley novels I'd read, I was sure there was going to be a redeeming twist -- there had to be!! Something to explain all the plodding and padding, and make it all worthwhile. But no: there is very thin characterization, vague and unconvincing motivation, very poor psychology (which is funny, given that Mrs Bradley is, duh, a psychologist ...), and lots and lots of padding. Oh, and two of the stupidest, lamest murders in the history of cosy murder mysteries.
Well, I finished it -- this is a mediocre effort, by a Golden Age crime writer who has done better things. I pressed on to the end because, based on other Mrs Bradley novels I'd read, I was sure there was going to be a redeeming twist -- there had to be!! Something to explain all the plodding and padding, and make it all worthwhile. But no: there is very thin characterization, vague and unconvincing motivation, very poor psychology (which is funny, given that Mrs Bradley is, duh, a psychologist ...), and lots and lots of padding. Oh, and two of the stupidest, lamest murders in the history of cosy murder mysteries.