Dalgliesh’s prose vividly evokes the harsh—but sometimes beautiful—desolate and achingly lonely topography of the Isle of Skye, whose isolation is magnified by the fog which obscures a view of the island’s neighbors. The dismal weather is, well, atmospheric in both senses of the word.
(It appears that J.M. Dalgliesh might not be a pen name. The late P.D. James, another British mystery writer, named one of her detectives Adam Dalgliesh. J.M, Dalgliesh follows the same name format— two initials and last name—as the venerable P.D. James.)
In this first of the Misty Isle books, the development of a new detective, Skye native DI (detective inspector) Duncan McAdams, promises in future novels to be a mix of distant interpersonal relationships, re-adjustment to his (foreshadowed) continuing life on the island, grudging respect from a hostile DCI (detective chief inspector), and the inevitable romantic-interest reactivation. McAdams is at once vulnerable but tough, and aloof (but with a bit of emergent compassion). As the book starts, McAdams has not only been booted out by his girlfriend, but “summoned”—the upshot of a disciplinary reprimand associated with his job as a detective with Glasgow law enforcement—to the Isle of Skye, coincidentally, his familial home, to assist in solving a 20-year-old cold case.
It was a bit of a stretch that McAdams did not contact his sister before he made his way back to his family home after a decade of scarce contact.
I had trouble distinguishing between two work teams formed by the DCI on the Isle of Skye: the local contingent and what seemed like a different secondary local group. Nevertheless, the crusty DS MacEachern was an able foil to the sometimes stiff DI McAdams.
Dalgliesh took a chance (on offending the hyper-uptight) in the choice of secondary characters’ traits. I thought it was refreshing. (Stopping there to avoid spoilers.)
The manuscript could use the attention of a stern editor. I hate to be “that person,” but Dalgliesh’s previous books, as well as this one, are peppered with misplaced modifying phrases. Disclaimer: This language device might be acceptable in the UK. I am from the United States, where it is denigrated.
Sitting down on the grass bank, Ghrobain rose up behind her, a solitary hill standing watch over Coral Beach. The introductory phrase (“Sitting down on the grass bank” modifies the mountain, Ghrobain, as if the mountain were sitting on the grass bank.)
Unaware of her presence, Roslyn stood in the doorway, one arm across her chest. (In this case, the implication is that Roslyn was unaware of another female person’s presence. In context, though, McAdams was unaware of Roslyn’s presence.)
Not a misplaced modifying phrase, but, well, curious.
Finishing the call, he walked back to stand on Karen’s shoulder. (No, uniformed officers had not wrestled Karen to the floor.)
Twice in the course of one page, McAdams smacked his lips and raised his eyebrows, once for the benefit of the DCI’s administrative assistant, then a moment later for his supervisor, the DCI.
I’ve enjoyed getting acquainted with the sympathetic detectives in most of the Hidden Norfolk and Dark Yorkshire novels; they are a tough act to follow. Long Time Dead would be a good escapism vehicle for whodunit fans. I'm looking forward to my next visit to the Misty Isle.