I was at Amsterdam’s Centraal Station, preparing to take the train to the sprawling Schiphol Airport (third busiest n all of Europe) for my flight to Brest, France. One of my sons texted me a message recommending three Euro-mystery novels he thought I’d enjoy reading. I thought it very thoughtful of him, so I popped over to the station bookstore. Alas! English titles are limited in a Dutch bookstore, even if they’re not by Dan Brown or James Patterson.
However, I did find one that looked interesting entitled A Death in Rembrandt Square, by Anja de Jager, Dutch born (no matter, most Dutch people in Amsterdam possess excellent English) but now a resident of London. I’d been in Amsterdam for several days, researching locations and settings for the novel I intended to begin writing once I got settled, and it was great fun to recognize the sites in de Jager’s book, from the eponymous cover title, on and on.
This is the latest in her “Lotte Meerman” series, for which she’s drawn inspiration from her father, a retired police detective. Nice to have one of those in your back pocket, to be sure. I thought the plot held merit, but I soon tired of de Jager’s limpid writing style. When one writes a mystery novel, it demands a certain energy to propel the characters and the action – the thing Dan Brown overdoes – traits which I, sad to say, found lacking in Rembrandt Square. The story seems to slog along, like the incessant Amsterdam rain.
Often, the main character n a mystery novel – usually the police officer or detective or private eye – has a certain world-weariness about him- or herself. The author seems to know this, but isn’t quite up to snuff invoking it in Lotte. Oh, she leads us down the garden path well enough, dropping red herrings to hint at Lotte’s past and current problems, but they end up lacking emotional weight.
Ms. de Jager is a tell, not a show, kind of writer – at least in this, her fourth in the series. It’s like she knows all the tropes and how the plot is supposed to go through its expository cycle – rising action, climax, falling action, denouement, etal – and has written these plot points on Post-Its for her book plan, but the rise doesn’t rise very well, and . . . well, page 153 was as far as I got. I had enjoyed breaking the spine on a brand-new novel in anticipation of five engaging hours of reading while in the air, but my chin kept falling on my chest.