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calellac 's review for:
Death Comes to Pemberley
by P.D. James
At the risk of sounding overly intellectual, this book suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked. And sucked hard.
I went in with high hopes, but how could P.D. James manage to combine two of my favorite things--Pride & Prejudice, and murder--and produce something so boring?
I'm so mad. Mostly because the conceit itself is so rich I don't know how anyone could mess it up. If she had just had the Darcys host a dinner party with the original characters, only for Wickham to be poisoned at the table, and have the rest of the book be the ol' "no one can leave this mansion until we find the murderer" bit, this book would have been endlessly entertaining and near impossible to put down.
Instead, we're treated to a slow slog through a parade of uninteresting original characters (and like, at that point, just write a book with entirely original characters) in which the Austen characters do neither anything interesting, nor anything in character, while we solve the murder of the forgettable Captain Denny by someone we do not care about, because P.D. James made the killer up and stuck them clumsily into a book that's supposed to be about established characters.
Shaking. My. Head.
I went in with high hopes, but how could P.D. James manage to combine two of my favorite things--Pride & Prejudice, and murder--and produce something so boring?
I'm so mad. Mostly because the conceit itself is so rich I don't know how anyone could mess it up. If she had just had the Darcys host a dinner party with the original characters, only for Wickham to be poisoned at the table, and have the rest of the book be the ol' "no one can leave this mansion until we find the murderer" bit, this book would have been endlessly entertaining and near impossible to put down.
Instead, we're treated to a slow slog through a parade of uninteresting original characters (and like, at that point, just write a book with entirely original characters) in which the Austen characters do neither anything interesting, nor anything in character, while we solve the murder of the forgettable Captain Denny by someone we do not care about, because P.D. James made the killer up and stuck them clumsily into a book that's supposed to be about established characters.
Shaking. My. Head.