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A review by starsal
Death Comes to Pemberley by P.D. James
2.0
I'm not even sure why this book got two stars. Charity, perhaps, or the fact that it took me less than a day to read it, so I didn't have to dwell on it that long.
I disapprove of misappropriations (or re-appropriations) of Jane Austen's characters and settings. It just smacks of lazy writing, a desire to piggyback (or parasite) off of her success, and a lack of originality. Sometimes that can be overcome by clever insights, interesting interpretations, or original messages. I was willing to give this one a chance. At least there weren't zombies.
But no redeeming value was present here. James wasn't even a little bit true to the essence of Austen's characters, writing, or mission. Where Austen's prose dances and her dialog stabs with delicate rapier wit, James' plods along, weighed down by goals all out of scale with her actual abilities. The witty, wry, vivacious Elizebeth Bennet is completely unrecognizable. Large amounts of exposition were plopped, wholesale, into characters' mouths for no defensible reason. The dialog was wooden, as were all of the characters, and the allusions to the actual book that took place at Pemberly were nauseatingly overdone, self-conscious, and induced some major eye-rolling on this side of the page.
Even the mystery itself was dull and poorly done. The plot, which I suppose was meant to be exciting, was plain dull. The story had no forward momentum, no memorable or interesting characters, nothing original or engaging to say, and nothing interesting to share.
Really, as far as I can tell, the book had no reason for being. It kept me mildly entertained one rainy night when I was home alone, and that's about all that can be said for it. I don't recommend it, and I will be returning it to the library as briskly as possibly.
I disapprove of misappropriations (or re-appropriations) of Jane Austen's characters and settings. It just smacks of lazy writing, a desire to piggyback (or parasite) off of her success, and a lack of originality. Sometimes that can be overcome by clever insights, interesting interpretations, or original messages. I was willing to give this one a chance. At least there weren't zombies.
But no redeeming value was present here. James wasn't even a little bit true to the essence of Austen's characters, writing, or mission. Where Austen's prose dances and her dialog stabs with delicate rapier wit, James' plods along, weighed down by goals all out of scale with her actual abilities. The witty, wry, vivacious Elizebeth Bennet is completely unrecognizable. Large amounts of exposition were plopped, wholesale, into characters' mouths for no defensible reason. The dialog was wooden, as were all of the characters, and the allusions to the actual book that took place at Pemberly were nauseatingly overdone, self-conscious, and induced some major eye-rolling on this side of the page.
Even the mystery itself was dull and poorly done. The plot, which I suppose was meant to be exciting, was plain dull. The story had no forward momentum, no memorable or interesting characters, nothing original or engaging to say, and nothing interesting to share.
Really, as far as I can tell, the book had no reason for being. It kept me mildly entertained one rainy night when I was home alone, and that's about all that can be said for it. I don't recommend it, and I will be returning it to the library as briskly as possibly.