

S'està carregant… The Murder Roomde P. D. James
![]() Books Read in 2015 (1,407) Books Read in 2020 (2,853) Detective Stories (167) » 1 més 501 Must-Read Books (369) No hi ha cap discussió a Converses sobre aquesta obra. I wanted to read some page-turning mysteries and someone recommended James. I picked this up for a song at a used bookstore. I really enjoyed James' style--she's a good writer, if very British (read: unnecessarily wordy) and I also enjoyed being transported back to London, which I hand't thought of for a while. But even with a large cast of characters, there weren't enough surprises. I kept coming up with outlandish solutions, because I was expecting something dramatic, but really the outcome was quite predictable and I caught the giveaway that is revealed at the end immediately. The "copycat" element of murders from the '20s and '30s wasn't played up enough. There was a lot of potential here, but ultimately I felt like the denouement was simply lazy. But the writing was good enough that I'll read another--perhaps I should go back to the first Dalgliesh and see if things aren't a little sharper. ( ![]() I wanted to read some page-turning mysteries and someone recommended James. I picked this up for a song at a used bookstore. I really enjoyed James' style--she's a good writer, if very British (read: unnecessarily wordy) and I also enjoyed being transported back to London, which I hand't thought of for a while. But even with a large cast of characters, there weren't enough surprises. I kept coming up with outlandish solutions, because I was expecting something dramatic, but really the outcome was quite predictable and I caught the giveaway that is revealed at the end immediately. The "copycat" element of murders from the '20s and '30s wasn't played up enough. There was a lot of potential here, but ultimately I felt like the denouement was simply lazy. But the writing was good enough that I'll read another--perhaps I should go back to the first Dalgliesh and see if things aren't a little sharper. The Dupayne Museum is a small, private museum that focuses on the interwar years (1919-1938). There is a library with an excellent selection of books, art works and the Murder Room — a room with exhibits of items from notorious murders of the 1920x – 1930s. It is the most popular section. Commander Adam Dagliesh visited the museum with a friend and was back there one week later. There was a suspicious death of one of the family members who owned it. Dagliesh’s previous visit gave him the advantage of knowing the layout and a touch of the family background. But there was more. Marcus, Neville and Caroline were the siblings who owned the museum, which was left to them by their father, who created it. As long as they all three sign the lease as it comes up for renewal, the museum stays. But currently there is a rift between the three that has come up at the current renewal time. And one of the three is the victim of the suspicious death. Who is the killer and what are the secrets people are hiding? Once again, Dalgleish is searching to find answers. I liked it and I didn't. Bruno is a laid-back chief of police who spends more time covering up crimes (against EU food laws, mainly) than solving them. When a real-life murder takes place in his territory, in the south of France, in a small village, he does step in. An elderly man is murdered. There is much suspicion of terrorist groups, and the national police arrive to take charge. Bruno works with the attractive female representative to provide local color, while continuing his unhurried encounters with the villagers and ultimately finding a solution. I found the odes to the French village tiresome, as some others have. I can appreciate the slow pace, the beautiful surroundings, being part of the village. I am less enamored with the casual slaughter of animals, whether according to EU rules or not. I am weary of simplistic characters. I don't particularly enjoy stories that are steeped in details of last night's meal to the extent that one could actually make the recipes at home. Further, I found a kind of self-satisfaction, almost smugness, throughout. I did appreciate the complexities of the story, the ultimate solution to the crime. In James' mysteries there are no penetrating interviews by hardened detectives, no rushing around, no plodding research. Instead this is a stately, measured account of murder in the cultivated setting of a private museum and school. Commander Adam Dalgliesh, the detective in charge, writes poetry so naturally it offers a suitably cultivated air. But the upper crust can commit heinous crimes as well as anyone else. P.D. James is hard to beat.
The éminence grise of British detective fiction, James delivers another ruminative puzzler, generous in character, graceful in prose. James writes with such ease and juggles her plots and characters with such control that none of this gets out of hand. . . Alas, James's efforts to inject suspense into Dalgliesh's romantic life are less effective. . . There is no mistaking P. D. James's latest mystery for the work of a younger writer. . . Her characters are confused by euros and annoyed by mobile phones. . . Despite her elegiac frame of mind, Ms. James has not lost her taste for a good throttling. It's a general rule of fiction that authors are happiest creating characters closest to their own age. This is because all fiction is broadly autobiographical. Male novelists in their early 20s create wincingly convincing teenagers but - by their 60s - are sketching adolescents who are merely embarrassing sexual fantasies. As an octogenarian novelist, James is showing similar difficulties of characterisation. . . I've never really got Dalgleish. His combination of policing skill and artistic sensibility - he's an acclaimed poet - has always struck a false note for me, especially given that he's so emotionally constrained. . . In The Murder Room, even his detective skills are more assumed than demonstrated. Several people, Dalgleish included, comment on his ability to get people to tell him things. Yet in this book, you have no idea why. All he seems to do is enter a room, ask a question and the admissions come thick and fast. . . Once she does begin, though, she doesn't relent until the genuinely chilling climax. Patrician, eccentric, but still a delight.
Commander Adam Dalgliesh, P. D. James’s formidable and fascinating detective, returns to find himself enmeshed in a terrifying story of passion and mystery -- and in love. The Dupayne, a small private museum in London devoted to the interwar years 1919 -- 1939, is in turmoil. As its trustees argue over whether it should be closed, one of them is brutally and mysteriously murdered. Yet even as Commander Dalgliesh and his team proceed with their investigation, a second corpse is discovered. Someone in the Dupayne is prepared to kill and kill again. Still more sinister, the murders appear to echo the notorious crimes of the past featured in one of the museum’s galleries: the Murder Room. The case is fraught with danger and complications from the outset, but for Dalgliesh the complications are unexpectedly profound. His new relationship with Emma Lavenham -- introduced in the last Dalgliesh novel, Death in Holy Orders -- is at a critical stage. Now, as he moves closer and closer to a solution to the puzzle, he finds himself driven further and further from commitment to the woman he loves. The Murder Room is a powerful work of mystery and psychological intricacy from a master of the modern novel. “You can’t possibly know him.” “I can know enough,” Emma said. “I can’t know everything, no one can. Loving him doesn’t give me the right to walk in and out of his mind as if it were my room at college. He’s the most private person I’ve ever met. But I know the things about him that matter.” But did she? Emma asked herself. Adam Dalgleish was intimate with those dark crevices of the human mind where horrors lurked which she couldn’t begin to comprehend. Not even that appalling scene in the church at St. Anselm’s had shown her the worst that human beings could do to each other. She knew about those horrors from literature; he explored them daily in his work. Sometimes, waking from sleep in the early hours, the vision she had of him was of the dark face masked, the hands smooth and impersonal in the sleek latex gloves. What hadn’t those hands touched? She rehearsed the questions she wondered if she would ever be able to ask. Why do you do it? Is it necessary to your poetry? Why did you choose this job? Or did it choose you? -- from The Murder Room From the Hardcover edition. No s'han trobat descripcions de biblioteca. |
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