I've never read a detective novel. I don't know why, but it has never appealed to me as a literary genre. For some reason, I picked this one up having been enticed by the dust-jacket synopsis and started reading it. From the first page, I was hooked. Unfortunately I couldn't put it down. I'd travelled miles to spend a social weekend with my family and finally spent every car journey, every evening immersed in this book.
It's true that it's not the best characterisation I've come across, but one marvels at the mastery of plot and somehow the characters redeem themselves as highly satisfactory vehicles with which to move the story on. It doesn't matter that they are a bit shadowy. With imagination one manages to give them more gravity oneself as the plot unfurls.
Wherever the writer takes us; Rome, Paris or England, the setting is perfectly expressed. I felt like I had lived through what the characters had by the end of the tale. I too was exhausted!
An intriguing plot and what is perhaps lost in characterisation is more than compensated in the storyline.
I will be reading many more books by Iain Pears. I haven't read any others by this author so if this is part of a series (as apparently it is) I don't believe it matters in the least.
I look forward to the next!