Three crime fiction novels. Starting with the bad: A Little Learning by J M Gregson.
I only managed one chapter of this Inspector Peach Mystery. On the first page we have: Lust was usually in the air at that heady hour on a Friday night: as the crashing rhythms of the music ceased, activated hormones began to throb even more insistently than the regular beat of the rock groups. On the very same page: They were three boys and one girl; they regarded themselves as ‘mates’… What planet is this author on? He’s writing about students in 2002!
Agatha Raisin and the Potted Gardener by M C Beaton was the one I found so-so. Not terrible at all, quite entertaining in a silly way but for cosy crime, I’d certainly pick Simon Brett or Hazel Holt over M C Beaton.
It took me a while to get into Andrea Camilleri's The Terracotta Dog, probably because it’s not the first book in the series; the names, the places were all strange and confusing at first and the story seemed episodic rather than gripping. Then I established the location – Sicily – firmly in my head and began to like Inspector Montalban with his love of literature and good food (Sicilian food sounds wonderful) and his battles with the mafiosi, corrupt officials and incompetents all around him. It was nearly half way through the book before the really interesting event took place and after that: phew! I sat down yesterday evening at nine o’clock and didn’t move until I’d finished it. It’s such a treat to find a book that stops you wanting to do anything else but read it and I’m grateful to ramblingfancy for lending it to me. More!