Pardon my French, but I have to get this off my chest or I won’t be able to go to bed. And sleep, I mean.
OK, let’s start again. Holy Island is what I meant. First crime novel of LJ Ross, whose efforts to become a success while bypassing standard publishing made me an admirer quite some time ago. Besides, I’m a sucker for a good cover, and hers are the best.
So when I finally decided to buy and read one of LJ’s books, I chose the first from 2015. Not sure what would have happened had I picked a different one. Anyway, I don’t like her detective. DCI Ryan can best be described as a very handsome Mr Rochester. Had I been fifty years younger, I’d have loved him and lapped up this story. At least until I got towards the end.
I don’t like the end. Or the epilogue, or the first chapter of the second book. Although in a way I’m glad it’s there, just to prevent me having another go.
But let’s face it. The effect the story has had on me suggests LJ knows what she’s doing.
The gorgeous image of Lindisfarne fits right in with my previous feelings about this interesting island and its castle. What could be better? Let’s just say I don’t think I need to consider visiting now. Yes, I know fiction is fiction, but there are limits. Besides tidal causeways don’t seem like such a good idea, now that I think about it.
For the most part I sat there reading, feeling it wasn’t quite as great as I’d hoped, but fine enough in its own way. The handsome detective and his romantic dalliance with a member of the public who is too involved in this ritualistic murder and the way we change points of view several times on one page made me feel uncomfortable. But as I said, I’d read on and see.
I did see. Not sure if one was meant to work out who the guilty party was, but I did. So probably intentional. The reader knows and can see how things are just going to get worse.
But I’m pleased for LJ and all her readers who have enjoyed this. It’s just not for me.
(And it’s ironic that I failed to find a usable image of the cover…)