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Laddar... Murder at Kensington Palaceav Andrea Penrose
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Gå med i LibraryThing för att få reda på om du skulle tycka om den här boken. Det finns inga diskussioner på LibraryThing om den här boken. Murder at Kensington Palace is the third book in the series, and by now, we all know that Mrs. Sloan has a secret about her past. We also know that Lord Wrexford will protect her current secret identity. Now things come to the fore when her cousin is murdered, and his twin is accused of that murder. Will the true murderer be revealed by our intrepid amateur sleuths? I love the mix of the Regency era social life, historical science, and the cast of characters. I also like the chemistry between the sleuths. And yes, I have already gotten the next book in the series. This book is highly recommended. So far, the Sloan and Wrexford mysteries have been intriguing, certainly original, and with no taint of a re-worked trope. However in this story, the plot was a feeble use of historical aspects in early research of electricity. As an underlying basis for murder, the plot device of arcane electrical experiments was rather boring with little flair for being intriguing. The novel's main participants in the science of this murder investigation involved Wrexford and Kit Sheffield rather than Charlotte. The best characterisations are Hawk and Raven: enchanting, amusing, and mischievous by turns. The introduction of 'McClellan' into the Sloan household as a lady's maid when needed, and as the housekeeper otherwise, was an interesting development in the previous book and continued effectively here. However, I didn't exactly buy the need for “Lady Charlotte” to enter the beau monde in order to advance the investigation. Most of Charlotte’s effective involvement was in the guise of her assumed urchin-disguise, Phoenix. All along, the narrative in this series has been moving towards A.J. Quill is a valuable character, though regrettably is being lost in the greater part of the intrigue. The Quill persona is an effective alternative to the story descending into a pedestrian saga with nothing distinctive to say. Illustrated satire was a strong weapon in the society of the 17th and 18th centuries, where reading and the printed word were largely inaccessible to the masses. The role that Quill played was a unique aspect of Penrose's Sloan and Wrexford adventures, so I see 'his' participation as an important contribution in how Charlotte's independence evolves. Unfortunately, the author doesn't seem to capitalize on the cachet which Quill's character can lend to her narratives. Nevertheless, the stories apparently have enough substance to keep me returning to this series despite the poorly written dialog. inga recensioner | lägg till en recension
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Though Charlotte Sloane's secret identity as the controversial satirical cartoonist A. J. Quill is safe with the Earl of Wrexford, she's ill prepared for the rippling effects sharing the truth about her background has cast over their relationship. She thought a bit of space might improve the situation. But when her cousin is murdered and his twin brother is accused of the gruesome crime, Charlotte immediately turns to Wrexford for help in proving the young man's innocence. Though she finds the brooding scientist just as enigmatic and intense as ever, their partnership is now marked by an unfamiliar tension that seems to complicate every encounter. Despite this newfound complexity, Wrexford and Charlotte are determined to track down the real killer. Their investigation leads them on a dangerous chase through Mayfair's glittering ballrooms and opulent drawing rooms, where gossip and rumors swirl to confuse the facts. Was her cousin murdered over a romantic rivalry . . . or staggering gambling debts? Or could the motive be far darker and involve the clandestine scientific society that claimed both brothers as members? The more Charlotte and Wrexford try to unknot the truth, the more tangled it becomes. But they must solve the case soon, before the killer's madness seizes another victim . . . Inga biblioteksbeskrivningar kunde hittas. |
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Google Books — Laddar... GenrerMelvil Decimal System (DDC)813.54Literature English (North America) American fiction 20th Century 1945-1999Klassifikation enligt LCBetygMedelbetyg:
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Don't get me wrong: I'm okay with a little romance as long as the writing isn't too purply. This particular trope (spunky girl/bad boy) is as old as moldy bread, but Penrose manages to keep things classy without breaking any new ground. (There are no brooding stares or throbbing organs, thank god!) Her prose style is wordy and repetitive (this could be 100pgs shorter without sacrificing anything of substance) and she has this weird obsession with onomatopoeia (things always seem to be going *crunch crunch!* or *clink clink!*), but her period research feels sound and her cast of supporting characters are endearing of not particularly original.
It's the accompanying mystery involving the investigation of the murder of Charlotte's cousin Cedric, an aspiring gentleman-scientist, that ruined this for me. Penrose's gimmicks is that her two protagonists are big fans of scientific method and critical thinking; they don't let their emotions interfere with their reason. But there's nothing logical about this so-called investigation ... just a series of silly assumptions and contrived dilemmas that provide distracting dramatic fodder but reveal themselves as preposterous if you actually bother to think about them, as I made the mistake of doing.
Characters behaving in a rational way, for instance, would presumably be bothered by the fact that the suspects they are investigating - while they may be involved in some shady scientific endeavors - actually have zero motive for committing any of the crimes.
Characters behaving in a rational way wouldn't rely on clues that are as problematic as - well, as problematic as Galvanism, a field of science that was briefly en vogue in the late 1800s but summarily debunked when it was discovered that while electricity can make the muscles of dead things twitch, it can't actually bring dead things back to life. (Yes, this was the scientific discipline that inspired Shelley's Frankenstein.) What rational person, having discovered traces of snuff near a bench in a highly trafficked public park, would automatically assume that it must have been left by the murderer? Is using snuff before (or after) you murder someone some sort of Regency custom?
Characters behaving in a rational way would find much, much easier ways to pursue their inquiries than repeatedly placing themselves in false dilemmas or physical peril.
And then the solution to the mystery, when it's finally revealed, turns out to be so strained and farfetched, wrapped up in a denouement so melodramatic and cheesy, that I officially gave up and skimmed the final pages in a state of disgust.
Come to think of it, this book actually has a lot in common with Galvanism, in that not even an unobjectionable current of romantic tension (or the story's cast of likeable if unoriginal hangers-on) ends up providing enough juice to animate the novel's labored and unsatisfying mystery plot. ( )