This is without doubt the worst crime novel I've ever had the misfortune to read, including Nancy Drew and her ilk.
I stupidly bought this rubbish thinking it must be an amazing crime novel having been written by such a famous author. All I'll say is that if you want to read crime then don't entertain this book, if you want to read this book then borrow it from the library, or from some other dumb sucker who bought it like me, or even better from ME, as I'd love to see the back of it.
For those who want the synopsis see below.
From Publishers Weekly:
"Serialized in a British newspaper in 1975, this edition of Amis's whodunit benefits from an introduction by the master satirist himself. The plot involves the murders of young women in London and the special committee set up to coordinate investigations with the police, when even Scotland Yard's most famous detectives fail to catch the killer. The professional sleuths, therefore, consult with an odd assortment of amateurs: Chris Dane, crime novelist; Benedict Royal, an intellectual rock star; Sir Neil Costello, QC; members of Parliament; and psychiatrists, including Marcus Varga, who's flakier than his patients. As the murders continue, so does Amis keep adding ingenious red herrings while playing fair by planting clues for readers sharp enough to spot them. The solution, however, will strike most mystery buffs as tops in the art of literary legerdemain. An alternate denouement, submitted by one of the newspaper's subscribers, closes the book and emphasizes just how foxy the author is."
I won't spoil the ending for you as there's actually nothing to spoil about this book, if I could give it a BIG FAT ZERO instead of 1 star I would.