It is so rare that I find a book such a waste of my time that I don’t finish it, and even less often that I feel a need to explain why, as a warning to other readers who may be sucked in by so many high ratings. Normally, I have an aversion to reviews written by a reader who failed to read the entire book, so take the fact that I have decided to write about the experience as an added warning of how tedious a read I eventually found this to be.

On the surface, it sounds fantastic, some intrigue in an exotic setting, a bit of second-cousin romance thrown in, and all by a rather famous author beloved by many. It is anything but fantastic. Mary Stewart uses some beautiful descriptive prose to mask how dreadfully slow-moving the narrative is, and how gossamer the nearly non-existent plot. Pages and pages of loveliness where nothing happens turn into — more pages and pages of loveliness where nothing happens. There is almost no movement at all here, a vibrant and colorful portrait which has no layers, no hidden depth, and more importantly, does not entertain as romantic suspense, or mystery. This is dreadful, perhaps more so because of how beautifully Stewart can set the table for the reader. The apprehension comes when we sit down at the colorfully arranged table and realize there is nothing to eat, and the anger when we realize there is never going to be.

I can’t remember at what page I finally stopped reading this artfully described dribble, but by the time what should have been an exciting scene of danger was described like all the other scenes — meticulously but with no movement or excitement — I began perusing ahead, reading sections, until finally realizing how empty and superficial the painting Stewart so meticulously rendered was beneath the surface. The best part of this book is the opening, which promises so much. A second-cousin romance between somewhat spoiled young people, Damascus and Lebanon, a secretive and eccentric relative where surely a great mystery hides. It sucks you in, and with each page, Stewart continues setting the table, yet never brings out the meal. I was perhaps a dozen pages from 100 by the time Christabel even made it to Dar Ibraham to speak with Aunt Harriet, who has patterned her life after Lady Hester Stanhope. Then nothing happens again for a very long time and it’s dreadfully boring. The reader keeps thinking that it has to get better, there has to be a point where lightning strikes, things are revealed, the narrative begins to have some movement — nope.

Having recently read a Martha Albrand novel only half the length of this one, which was also a book of romantic intrigue and danger in a colorful — albeit slightly less exotic — setting, I couldn’t help but have a greater appreciation for Albrand. Unlike Stewart, she picked out a smaller canvas on which to paint her exciting and colorful adventure, giving it great movement and just enough atmosphere to suggest the beauty in which the danger and excitement was taking place. Stewart picked out a large canvas on which to paint her story, filling it with rich and vibrant colors which draw you to it on the wall. But when you get closer, you realize the splash of color is all there is, and then suddenly you turn to Albrand’s smaller canvas hanging next to it. You realize there is excitement suggested in her economical brush strokes, the larger romantic mystery painted on the smaller canvas alive with danger and movement. Albrand’s painting has a life beneath the surface, even if it’s just as entertainment. Stewart’s does not, it is all splash and color to distract you from the truth that her painting has nothing to say. And it’s boring.

My first instinct was to give this three stars so as not to skew the rating, since in fairness I couldn’t finish this — or rather chose not to waste any more time on it — but I simply can’t. I’m giving this two stars, and I suggest anyone thinking of reading this book, read the other two star reviews as well before you make your decision. Reading tastes are different, and others may enjoy this. Just be forewarned, it’s pretty, but it just lays there…and never moves… ( )

Once again Mary Stewart transported me to another Middle East adventure. I loved it all the way through. She is so good at creating original characters with so much depth. It was fun, exciting and romantic. ( )

3.5* I always enjoy Mary Stewart's romantic suspense/mystery books and I really enjoyed the setting of this one, something a little different being set in Lebanon and Syria. I didn't give it 4 stars only because I did not enjoy it as much as some of her other books, but I will certainly re-read this in the future. ( )

Ew.
I knew from the reviews not to expect a great book, but I was trying to find something I haven't already read in a genre I enjoy for the "Set outside N. America or Europe" book bingo, and coming up completely empty-handed. So this seemed like the simplest way to knock that out.
Let's just say, it's easier to accept cousinly romance in a book like Mansfield Park, partly because it's 200 years old and partly because Jane Austen doesn't use the word "incest" MULTIPLE times when describing the relationship of the central characters.

Ew, Mary Stewart. This was 100% not necessary. It's like she was trying to gross people out by constantly underlining just how closely related these two are. Because not only are they first cousins, but their fathers are twins! And they themselves are often mistaken for twins! Why, in this day and age (by which I mean the 20th century) would you write that? Addendum: It appears from reading other reviews that in some editions, they are changed to second cousins. Which feels like, A) Still dicey depending on standards where the reader lives, and B) that it maybe should have been a consideration all along? Regardless, I'm out.

Also, I just didn't like the characters. Although maybe I would have liked them more if they didn't ruminate on the word incest.

DNF. Mary Stewart has some masterpieces--if you haven't read her work, just please don't start here.

I am an admirer of Mary Stewart. She has a wonderful way of describing places that puts you right into the exotic settings and make you feel that you are seeing what she is seeing. The Gabriel Hounds is set in Lebanon and Syria in the 1960s, a place of mystery, distant and alluring. Trying to imagine that region as a place where you could come and go without fear is difficult. It is such a powder keg today. So, just the setting and the easy attitude toward being an Englishman there are ripe with nostalgia for a time sadly out of reach.

Christy Mansel’s Great Aunt Harriet lives in an ancient palace in Beirut and Christy, who is on a vacation tour, shows up unexpectedly to visit with her. Something is amiss, but unraveling exactly what is going on is not a simple task and leads Christy into a dangerous and life-threatening situation. The story moves at a quick pace and makes some interesting turns before it is concluded. While I do not think it is the greatest mystery story ever written, might be a little cliched, and ties up far too neatly, it is still so much fun that any flaws it might have are immediately forgiven. As with all of Mary Stewart’s mystery/romances, the love story is a tad contrived, but again that is just a part of her style that I accept going in. There is a sweet naivete that goes with this glimpse of the world as it was that is charming. No one would write this tale today in quite the same way.

Maybe the thing that I love about reading Mary Stewart is that she is a walk down memory lane for me. I read her books, all of them, when I was young and I thought her the most marvelous writer ever. Her mystery/romances are for fun only. No great moral lessons or deep themes to explore, but she is among the best at what she does...and we all gotta have a little fun along the way, don’t we?
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