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akirluZoom. Finished it. For spoilery thoughts on same, look behind the
It's an amazing ride, all right. The pace is excellent; grabs you right at first and then plunges away headlong. It's a bit reminiscent of Gosford Park insofar as both start out setting you up for a cosily familiar drawing room murder sort of thing and then veer off the script to make much more thoughtful and accute social and political commentary. Jo is particularly deft at differentiating the voices of the two narrators, and dividing the story between them seamlessly, one often supplying details the other will never see.
On the whole, possibly a masterpiece, but alas a flawed one, for me.
I actually do wish I wouldn't get caught up in this stuff; it's the Last Replicant problem all over again. Because yes, I'm still on about the niggling details, but several of them really are crucial.
Thing the first: if a victim of carbon monoxide poisoning has acquired the textbook "typical" cherry red coloring, it's supposed to be an all-over phenomenon, not limited to the head and face. You'd see it in the hands, neck, and chest as well. And I don't think going bug-eyed is actually typical of carbon monoxide poisoning in any case.
Second: if you've neglected to pack your riding clothes and need to scrounge some, jodhpurs are nice, perhaps, but something that passes for a heeled riding boot is more crucial. I really can't see somebody who's spent years in the saddle caring about the jodhpurs to the point of utterly forgetting about boots.
Third: there isn't anyplace on an English saddle to hang a shotgun or its holster from, and anyway I'm really pretty dubious about somebody habitually taking a shotgun along to hunt with when riding.
Fourth: The big one, really, aside from the carbon monoxide thing: in order for a shotgun load meant for potting rabbits to take most of somebody's head off, it would have to be discharged at essentially point-blank range. And possibly wouldn't do it then, viz the Cheney lawyer-shooting incident.
Fifth: If you've already seen the ammunition from a .22 rifle, then it isn't going to be looking more closely at the rifle itself that tells you it wasn't a standard Lee-Enfield rifle. .22 rounds are distinctively small.
Like I say, I wish it didn't matter. But the thing is, if you're writing a mystery, even a social commentary in the guise of a mystery, the clues you leave lying around can't be wrong. I really was expecting for a long time that the thing about the point blank head shot would have to be picked up, but it never was, and, well, it's disappointing is all.
It's an amazing ride, all right. The pace is excellent; grabs you right at first and then plunges away headlong. It's a bit reminiscent of Gosford Park insofar as both start out setting you up for a cosily familiar drawing room murder sort of thing and then veer off the script to make much more thoughtful and accute social and political commentary. Jo is particularly deft at differentiating the voices of the two narrators, and dividing the story between them seamlessly, one often supplying details the other will never see.
On the whole, possibly a masterpiece, but alas a flawed one, for me.
I actually do wish I wouldn't get caught up in this stuff; it's the Last Replicant problem all over again. Because yes, I'm still on about the niggling details, but several of them really are crucial.
Thing the first: if a victim of carbon monoxide poisoning has acquired the textbook "typical" cherry red coloring, it's supposed to be an all-over phenomenon, not limited to the head and face. You'd see it in the hands, neck, and chest as well. And I don't think going bug-eyed is actually typical of carbon monoxide poisoning in any case.
Second: if you've neglected to pack your riding clothes and need to scrounge some, jodhpurs are nice, perhaps, but something that passes for a heeled riding boot is more crucial. I really can't see somebody who's spent years in the saddle caring about the jodhpurs to the point of utterly forgetting about boots.
Third: there isn't anyplace on an English saddle to hang a shotgun or its holster from, and anyway I'm really pretty dubious about somebody habitually taking a shotgun along to hunt with when riding.
Fourth: The big one, really, aside from the carbon monoxide thing: in order for a shotgun load meant for potting rabbits to take most of somebody's head off, it would have to be discharged at essentially point-blank range. And possibly wouldn't do it then, viz the Cheney lawyer-shooting incident.
Fifth: If you've already seen the ammunition from a .22 rifle, then it isn't going to be looking more closely at the rifle itself that tells you it wasn't a standard Lee-Enfield rifle. .22 rounds are distinctively small.
Like I say, I wish it didn't matter. But the thing is, if you're writing a mystery, even a social commentary in the guise of a mystery, the clues you leave lying around can't be wrong. I really was expecting for a long time that the thing about the point blank head shot would have to be picked up, but it never was, and, well, it's disappointing is all.
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