Short sentences, short paragraphs, short chapters . . . and by reading only one word in three I managed to make short work of this formulaic Krimi.
It was rubbish. I guessed whodunnit halfway through and that left nothing novel or interesting. The detectives and their circumstances were familiar from dozens of other such books. A liking for Gossec’s Requiem and a few musings on mortality don’t render your central character a character. At least the stock rape-and-murders were leavened by a male headless corpse.
The most dismal thing about it was its [lack of a] setting. I thought it might at least be a bit Swedish. Nope. Dutch and German names, Dutch currency, Scandinavian lakes and forests, Swedish and German diacritics for proper nouns . . . it’s Middle Earth with Morse.
It makes me realise how utterly superior Ruth Rendell was in the genre.
And now to the Oxfam bookshop with it.