You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
A review by fictionfan
The Glimpses of the Moon by Edmund Crispin
1.0
Twenty-four years after the last book, Crispin decided to revive his detective for a last outing in which Fen is holed up in a Devonshire village writing a book. The discovery of a decapitated human head in a bag is the beginning of a convoluted mystery which will baffle everyone… except Fen, of course!
To be frank, Crispin had lost his touch. His earlier subtly intelligent humour has become gross and obvious, and slapstick has taken the place of the clever plotting of yore. The book is close to twice as long as the earlier ones, meaning it drags and waffles. The sexism and racism that were of their time in the books from the ‘50s are seriously outdated in the ‘70s and therefore seem much less forgivable somehow, especially since he’s coarser than he was back then. The language reads as if Crispin is trying to be in tune with the modern era, and missing by miles. I abandoned it halfway through, and have decided to pretend it never existed so that I can go on loving the earlier books.
To be frank, Crispin had lost his touch. His earlier subtly intelligent humour has become gross and obvious, and slapstick has taken the place of the clever plotting of yore. The book is close to twice as long as the earlier ones, meaning it drags and waffles. The sexism and racism that were of their time in the books from the ‘50s are seriously outdated in the ‘70s and therefore seem much less forgivable somehow, especially since he’s coarser than he was back then. The language reads as if Crispin is trying to be in tune with the modern era, and missing by miles. I abandoned it halfway through, and have decided to pretend it never existed so that I can go on loving the earlier books.