I read somewhere that Jill Paton Walsh was such a fan of Harriet Vane's that Gaudy Night inspired her to attend Oxford. It's a wonderful little detail, and I love hearing stuff like that.
But unfortunately for me as a Lord Peter Wimsey fan, it seems that Walsh's identification with Harriet means that Lord Peter is being winnowed out of her version of Sayers's stories almost completely.
So once again, as with Walsh's Sayers continuation Thrones, Dominations, we have a solid, competently written book that doesn't feel much like part of the "Lord Peter" series except in name only. Most of the book takes place in WWII England, at Talboys (Harriet's childhood home, and the setting of Busman's Honeymoon), and Peter is absent for most of the book, off on mysterious wartime missions.
I really felt like this Harriet-centric narrative device was a mistake. We're left with Harriet's rather straightforward, plainer personality, and without even a little of the Wimsey sparkle, the book drags for long sections. The only relief is a surprisingly enjoyable portrait of Bunter, whose character is believably expanded and who is one of the book's bright spots.
But nobody else really feels like themselves. In Walsh's hands, Harriet lacks the quiet wit that marked her in Sayers's work, and here she's more humorless than ever. Kirk and Twitterton are both rather grim and seem to return just for fan-service (and they're completely unlike their Busman's Honeymoon selves).
But it's the bright, mercurial characters that suffer most -- the Dowager is, like Peter, barely recognizable in Walsh's hands -- a shadow of her usually wonderful, rambling, stream-of-consciousness self, Jerry (Pickled Gherkins) is utterly lacking his usual breezy charm, and worst of all, Walsh cannot even seem to write Miss Climpson, who is presented without her ever-present breathless over-emphasis and italics (surely Miss Climpson's funny and faintly breathless and distinctive voice (!!!) could have and should have been better captured).
It's as if Walsh is writing these faintly dry, academic, competent fan-fictions that happen to include Sayers characters, but she can't seem to capture the real vividness of the characters themselves.
Lord Peter does return to the narrative here eventually, but he's once again rather sparkless. It's not that I think he should be dancing jigs in wartime, but Lord Peter does tend to whistle in the dark, and in addition to that, a sense of humor can be slyly evident as a personality trait even under pressure. With Lord Peter, in fact? Especially under pressure!
But not here. As before, the character just doesn't feel much like Lord Peter at all -- once again, Walsh's take on Lord Peter is rather humorless and stuffy, with little wit or wordplay. Worst of all, she has Lord Peter apologizing repeatedly for being so "foolish" in the past -- this comes up repeatedly, and annoyed me a lot. Lord Peter's 'laughing on the outside' tomfoolery isn't actually foolish, and that's what's fun about the character. He's usually clowning around right when the danger is greatest or when his heart is breaking -- so for Walsh to essentially dismiss and criticize the earlier Sayers (real) Lord Peter as some kind of flighty annoyance is upsetting if you're a fan of the series.
While this was an interesting story that brought to life WWII Britain, I ultimately felt this one was less successful than Thrones, Dominations, which I also felt was simply an okay mystery, and a substandard attempt at Lord Peter. However, where Thrones offered a mystery that felt like Sayers, the mystery here not only is very oddly presented and explored, it's almost thrown away by the end of the book. Both books are well-researched and presented, and Walsh obviously enjoys Sayers's works, but it's like hearing a barely competent musician play Mozart -- there's little real feeling to what feels like an almost academic exercise.
I will keep reading Walsh's take -- substandard Lord Peter is better in a weird way than none at all, and I'm interested to see where she takes the characters. But it's been a quiet disappointment, as she has taken so much of the dazzle and dash of one of my favorite characters and made him rather ordinary -- that's the real crime here.
I hope I'm explaining myself well. It's a decent book, but in it we see only the palest reflection of one of the great literary characters of all time. As an example -- one of my favorite moments in the Lord Peter Wimsey series is a moment in the book Strong Poison, when Lord Peter is rambling humorously at Harriet about the case (while making yet another marriage proposal), and charmed in spite of herself, she tells him that if anyone ever does marry him, it will be for the pleasure of hearing him "talk piffle."
That's my problem with Walsh's take on the characters. There's plenty of mystery -- but no piffle.