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Mrs. Bradley #2
The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop
When Rupert Sethleigh's body is found one morning, minus its head, laid out in the village butcher shop, the inhabitants of Wandles Parva aren't particularly upset.
Sethleigh was a blackmailing money lender and when the unconventional detective Mrs Bradley begins her investigation she finds no shortage of suspects.
It soon transpires that most of the village seem to have been wandering about Manor Woods, home of the mysterious druidic stone on which Sethleigh's blood is found splashed, on the night he was murdered but can she eliminate the red herrings and catch the real killer?
Sethleigh was a blackmailing money lender and when the unconventional detective Mrs Bradley begins her investigation she finds no shortage of suspects.
It soon transpires that most of the village seem to have been wandering about Manor Woods, home of the mysterious druidic stone on which Sethleigh's blood is found splashed, on the night he was murdered but can she eliminate the red herrings and catch the real killer?
190 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1929
60 people are currently reading
412 people want to read
About the author
Gladys Mitchell
92 books142 followersAka Malcolm Torrie, Stephen Hockaby.
Born in Cowley, Oxford, in 1901, Gladys Maude Winifred Mitchell was the daughter of market gardener James Mitchell, and his wife, Annie.
She was educated at Rothschild School, Brentford and Green School, Isleworth, before attending Goldsmiths College and University College, London from 1919-1921.
She taught English, history and games at St Paul's School, Brentford, from 1921-26, and at St Anne's Senior Girls School, Ealing until 1939.
She earned an external diploma in European history from University College in 1926, beginning to write her novels at this point. Mitchell went on to teach at a number of other schools, including the Brentford Senior Girls School (1941-50), and the Matthew Arnold School, Staines (1953-61). She retired to Corfe Mullen, Dorset in 1961, where she lived until her death in 1983.
Although primarily remembered for her mystery novels, and for her detective creation, Mrs. Bradley, who featured in 66 of her novels, Mitchell also published ten children's books under her own name, historical fiction under the pseudonym Stephen Hockaby, and more detective fiction under the pseudonym Malcolm Torrie. She also wrote a great many short stories, all of which were first published in the Evening Standard.
She was awarded the Crime Writers' Association Silver Dagger Award in 1976.
Born in Cowley, Oxford, in 1901, Gladys Maude Winifred Mitchell was the daughter of market gardener James Mitchell, and his wife, Annie.
She was educated at Rothschild School, Brentford and Green School, Isleworth, before attending Goldsmiths College and University College, London from 1919-1921.
She taught English, history and games at St Paul's School, Brentford, from 1921-26, and at St Anne's Senior Girls School, Ealing until 1939.
She earned an external diploma in European history from University College in 1926, beginning to write her novels at this point. Mitchell went on to teach at a number of other schools, including the Brentford Senior Girls School (1941-50), and the Matthew Arnold School, Staines (1953-61). She retired to Corfe Mullen, Dorset in 1961, where she lived until her death in 1983.
Although primarily remembered for her mystery novels, and for her detective creation, Mrs. Bradley, who featured in 66 of her novels, Mitchell also published ten children's books under her own name, historical fiction under the pseudonym Stephen Hockaby, and more detective fiction under the pseudonym Malcolm Torrie. She also wrote a great many short stories, all of which were first published in the Evening Standard.
She was awarded the Crime Writers' Association Silver Dagger Award in 1976.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 89 reviews
March 8, 2017
"Stop, James!" came in deep rich tones from the depths of the chair. "You are wearing grey flannel trousers!"
"Yes," agreed Jim, glancing down at them.
"If I had my way," said Mrs Bradley firmly, "grey flannel trousers should be taxed, together with dogs, automobiles, wireless receiving-sets, income, and the colour curiously termed beige."
I like Mitchell's character studies and her humour but her plotting and convoluted storytelling left me, yet again, puzzled beyond what I can put up with. I was lost by the half-way mark, and the red herrings and inconsequential discussions in the second half did nothing to salvage the mystery for me.
Not even the humour and obvious Christie-mockery could make up for it.
Shame.
"Yes," agreed Jim, glancing down at them.
"If I had my way," said Mrs Bradley firmly, "grey flannel trousers should be taxed, together with dogs, automobiles, wireless receiving-sets, income, and the colour curiously termed beige."
I like Mitchell's character studies and her humour but her plotting and convoluted storytelling left me, yet again, puzzled beyond what I can put up with. I was lost by the half-way mark, and the red herrings and inconsequential discussions in the second half did nothing to salvage the mystery for me.
Not even the humour and obvious Christie-mockery could make up for it.
Shame.
May 7, 2017
A terrible, terrible book!
If there is one thing I like about Gladys Mitchell, it's her setting. She goes for the old-world country setting with characters who knew each other for years, or thought they did, until a murder occurs. She can do characters well, but it's a hit or miss with her, and it was a miss with this book. Her plots are however, atrociously formed and make absolutely no sense.
I was annoyed quite early in the book when a twenty one year old woman was called 'child' by all and sundry, and this included a fifteen year old boy called Aubrey! I disliked Aubrey with all my heart; he perfected the art of precociousness and acted like an octogenarian instead of the young baby he was. Another character I disliked is Felicity Broom, the twenty one year old 'child', who puts up with being treated like a kid. What 21 year old would allow a 15 year old to hang around at night and do dangerous stuff while she herself went to bed like a good girl? Stupid beyond belief!
And I hate Mrs Bradley. I get that she was supposed to be the antithesis of the fluffy and genial old ladies solving village mysteries, but the author completely overdid the character. She keeps cackling (that's the word used) all the time for no reason. Her repulsive appearance and the evil looks she throws at everyone was entertaining at first, but got old very quickly. And she also plays God by letting the real murderer go free and giving the police a scapegoat for their case. She keeps clues from the police and misguides them all the time to get the results she wanted. And she justifies her behaviour by claiming that the scapegoat was technically responsible Who the hell does she think she is?!
In this book, the master of the local manor gets murdered and then a dismembered body is found in the local butcher shop. After this, the story descends into a complete mess. I could not keep track of the various plots and at some point, I just stopped caring. The final chapters picked up a little because the author toned down the stupid character idiosyncrasies but messed it all up again in the end by Bradley's terrible behaviour.
I disliked almost everything about this book, but the setting was good as usual - the only reason I was able to finish.
If there is one thing I like about Gladys Mitchell, it's her setting. She goes for the old-world country setting with characters who knew each other for years, or thought they did, until a murder occurs. She can do characters well, but it's a hit or miss with her, and it was a miss with this book. Her plots are however, atrociously formed and make absolutely no sense.
I was annoyed quite early in the book when a twenty one year old woman was called 'child' by all and sundry, and this included a fifteen year old boy called Aubrey! I disliked Aubrey with all my heart; he perfected the art of precociousness and acted like an octogenarian instead of the young baby he was. Another character I disliked is Felicity Broom, the twenty one year old 'child', who puts up with being treated like a kid. What 21 year old would allow a 15 year old to hang around at night and do dangerous stuff while she herself went to bed like a good girl? Stupid beyond belief!
And I hate Mrs Bradley. I get that she was supposed to be the antithesis of the fluffy and genial old ladies solving village mysteries, but the author completely overdid the character. She keeps cackling (that's the word used) all the time for no reason. Her repulsive appearance and the evil looks she throws at everyone was entertaining at first, but got old very quickly. And she also plays God by letting the real murderer go free and giving the police a scapegoat for their case. She keeps clues from the police and misguides them all the time to get the results she wanted. And she justifies her behaviour by claiming that the scapegoat was technically responsible Who the hell does she think she is?!
In this book, the master of the local manor gets murdered and then a dismembered body is found in the local butcher shop. After this, the story descends into a complete mess. I could not keep track of the various plots and at some point, I just stopped caring. The final chapters picked up a little because the author toned down the stupid character idiosyncrasies but messed it all up again in the end by Bradley's terrible behaviour.
I disliked almost everything about this book, but the setting was good as usual - the only reason I was able to finish.
December 8, 2023
Not enough corpses…
When a headless, dismembered corpse is found in the local butcher’s shop, it seems obvious the body probably belongs to Rupert Sethleigh, owner of the local manor house, who has disappeared. Everyone, it appears, disliked Rupert so there’s a wide pool of suspects.
That’s about as much plot as I garnered from this really quite awful book even though I stuck it out to 67%. There’s no real plot – just lots of people wandering around the woods for mysterious purposes giving each other alibis, or not, as the case may be, and lots of what are obviously supposed to be red herrings swimming around. I could tell you about the stuffed fish in the suitcase or the coconut masquerading as a decapitated head but, happily for you, I won’t. The ‘tec, Mrs Bradley, is awful, an elderly, ugly woman – so we are told repeatedly – constantly squawking and screeching. What a pity she wasn’t victim 2! She would have been if I’d been one of the characters. Mind you, there would have been quite a few on my little list. I’d definitely have done away with the annoying fifteen-year-old boy who talks like someone in his fifties and keeps messing around with the evidence. In a gesture of kindness towards his age, I’d have shuffled him off painlessly, with some poison in his lemonade. The chief suspect is a whining mercenary type for whom I’d have saved my special bludgeon. And the flibbertigibbet twenty-one-year old girl, so sweet and adorable and brainless, I’d have made her read a good book – that would almost certainly have made her head explode. I feel since Mitchell provided a druidic sacrificial stone in the woods it would be remiss of me not to use it, so the fifteen-year-old’s mother would be disposed of there, partly for being such a snob and partly for bringing her son up to be so annoying.
You can probably tell the depth of my tedium by the tone of my fantasies. It goes on and on and on and on and on but never actually moves. I gave up, flipped ahead, and felt I shouldn’t have bothered – the ending is done so badly it makes the rest of the book almost look good in comparison. Almost.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
When a headless, dismembered corpse is found in the local butcher’s shop, it seems obvious the body probably belongs to Rupert Sethleigh, owner of the local manor house, who has disappeared. Everyone, it appears, disliked Rupert so there’s a wide pool of suspects.
That’s about as much plot as I garnered from this really quite awful book even though I stuck it out to 67%. There’s no real plot – just lots of people wandering around the woods for mysterious purposes giving each other alibis, or not, as the case may be, and lots of what are obviously supposed to be red herrings swimming around. I could tell you about the stuffed fish in the suitcase or the coconut masquerading as a decapitated head but, happily for you, I won’t. The ‘tec, Mrs Bradley, is awful, an elderly, ugly woman – so we are told repeatedly – constantly squawking and screeching. What a pity she wasn’t victim 2! She would have been if I’d been one of the characters. Mind you, there would have been quite a few on my little list. I’d definitely have done away with the annoying fifteen-year-old boy who talks like someone in his fifties and keeps messing around with the evidence. In a gesture of kindness towards his age, I’d have shuffled him off painlessly, with some poison in his lemonade. The chief suspect is a whining mercenary type for whom I’d have saved my special bludgeon. And the flibbertigibbet twenty-one-year old girl, so sweet and adorable and brainless, I’d have made her read a good book – that would almost certainly have made her head explode. I feel since Mitchell provided a druidic sacrificial stone in the woods it would be remiss of me not to use it, so the fifteen-year-old’s mother would be disposed of there, partly for being such a snob and partly for bringing her son up to be so annoying.
You can probably tell the depth of my tedium by the tone of my fantasies. It goes on and on and on and on and on but never actually moves. I gave up, flipped ahead, and felt I shouldn’t have bothered – the ending is done so badly it makes the rest of the book almost look good in comparison. Almost.
www.fictionfanblog.wordpress.com
March 24, 2015
From BBC Radio 4 Extra:
An Offal Discovery
When Rupert Sethleigh vanishes, Gladys Mitchell's amateur sleuth Mrs Bradley probes alarming village events. Stars Mary Wimbush.
The Bones of the Matter
With Rupert Sethleigh still missing, can amateur sleuth Mrs Bradley solve the mystery of a headless corpse? Stars Mary Wimbush.
An Offal Discovery
When Rupert Sethleigh vanishes, Gladys Mitchell's amateur sleuth Mrs Bradley probes alarming village events. Stars Mary Wimbush.
The Bones of the Matter
With Rupert Sethleigh still missing, can amateur sleuth Mrs Bradley solve the mystery of a headless corpse? Stars Mary Wimbush.
Read
December 19, 2017I usually like the Mrs Bradleys but this was bog awful. The plot and characters are sketched in in a way so impressionistic as to make you feel like you're reading a poorly constructed synopsis, the resolution depends on profoundly unconvincing psychoanalysis, and the whole thing is just flimsy tosh. Very poor stuff.
August 8, 2018
I was reminded of Dorothy Sayers' intricate, even convoluted plotting and PG Wodehouse's eye for human folly. A quietly sardonic novel with a memorable, startlingly amoral sleuth. Do not expect a typical cozy mystery as much as a fond send-up of the genre, couched in an elegantly devious mystery.
March 6, 2014
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 7, 2012
Gladys Mitchell's psychologist-detective Mrs. Beatrice Adela Lestrange Bradley has fallen into undeserved obscurity. I'm hoping that all of books penned by the woman once known as "the great Gladys" come back into print and are picked up by Audible.com.
Unlike the innocent-appearing Miss Marple or the erudite Roderick Alleyn, Mrs. Bradley is frequently described in saurian terms. She's yellow with age, curmudgeonly in disposition, and decidedly not a sweet old lady. However, her observations -- in addition to being spot on -- tend to be quite funny. In The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop, the rapacious Sir Rupert Sethleigh first goes missing. His body then turns up gruesomely butchered in the window of the local butcher's shop, and Mrs. Bradley decides to get to the bottom of things. That proves difficult as Sir Rupert's skull keeps turning up in all the wrong places. One suspect after the other keeps moving the skull to dispel suspicion from him- or herself, adding to the hilarity. I read the Audible.com version of the novel, and the reader, with her elderly voice, does full credit to the book.
To read one Gladys Mitchell book is to become hooked. However much I enjoyed this one, my favorite still remains The Saltmarsh Murders. But I've promised myself that I shall read all 66 of the Mrs. Bradley novels.
Unlike the innocent-appearing Miss Marple or the erudite Roderick Alleyn, Mrs. Bradley is frequently described in saurian terms. She's yellow with age, curmudgeonly in disposition, and decidedly not a sweet old lady. However, her observations -- in addition to being spot on -- tend to be quite funny. In The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop, the rapacious Sir Rupert Sethleigh first goes missing. His body then turns up gruesomely butchered in the window of the local butcher's shop, and Mrs. Bradley decides to get to the bottom of things. That proves difficult as Sir Rupert's skull keeps turning up in all the wrong places. One suspect after the other keeps moving the skull to dispel suspicion from him- or herself, adding to the hilarity. I read the Audible.com version of the novel, and the reader, with her elderly voice, does full credit to the book.
To read one Gladys Mitchell book is to become hooked. However much I enjoyed this one, my favorite still remains The Saltmarsh Murders. But I've promised myself that I shall read all 66 of the Mrs. Bradley novels.
February 8, 2020
Another fun read with Mrs Bradley as the very unconventional sleuth working out the details of a rather gruesome murder in a typical English village (it’s almost called Mayhem Parva). As a crime plot it’s not always working smoothly, but as a comedy of manners with some elements of satire it’s very good.
September 12, 2020
Gladys Mitchell is a bit of a weirdo, I think ;-) Technically this is Golden Age era cosy mystery, but rather than a nice, quick poisoning, the victim is bludgeoned, decapitated, quartered, and hung to dry in a butcher's shop, which is a bit queasy-inducing even for my 21st century stomach.
They also feel a bit long—a bit too rambling, not quite neat. And I'm annoyed when characters interfere in the clean solving of a murder—I recently read a Craig Rice where the protagonists, children, did everything from hide fugitive witnesses to steal clues—and this book also features youngish characters mucking things up on purpose, it just annoys me.
And yet I read, and wonder about the solution, it's just all the while I wish it would go a little faster and be a tad less grisly. I'll read her again, though. Nothing wrong with a 3-star read, it's just I wish it were even better. 2-stars, now, you've let me down, that's different. But she's a good solid 3-star read, and after all, I've just about finished every Agatha Christie and Margery Allingham and am happy to find a prolific writer to ease the pain.
(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. I'm fairly good at picking for myself so end up with a lot of 4s).
They also feel a bit long—a bit too rambling, not quite neat. And I'm annoyed when characters interfere in the clean solving of a murder—I recently read a Craig Rice where the protagonists, children, did everything from hide fugitive witnesses to steal clues—and this book also features youngish characters mucking things up on purpose, it just annoys me.
And yet I read, and wonder about the solution, it's just all the while I wish it would go a little faster and be a tad less grisly. I'll read her again, though. Nothing wrong with a 3-star read, it's just I wish it were even better. 2-stars, now, you've let me down, that's different. But she's a good solid 3-star read, and after all, I've just about finished every Agatha Christie and Margery Allingham and am happy to find a prolific writer to ease the pain.
(Note: 5 stars = amazing, wonderful, 4 = very good book, 3 = decent read, 2 = disappointing, 1 = awful, just awful. I'm fairly good at picking for myself so end up with a lot of 4s).
October 20, 2025
It took me several days to finish this relatively short book, in part because it was one of those accursed tomes that attract interruptions every few lines, but also because of the book itself. I've got to stop trying to choke down Mitchell's stuff. It reads witty at first, but the wit soon palls and you're left with weird.
Why did Mitchell feel she had to make her MC so very physically and emotionally unattractive? She compares Bradley to a predator, a serpent, a saurian, a lizard, a bird of prey with talons and claws and sharp eyes and teeth. Her behaviour is bizarre: she hoots with inappropriate laughter, cackles, screams, etc. I don't mind her referring to the 20 yr old woman as "child"; since I got within spitting distance of 60 myself I have had to take firm hold on my tendency to speak to 40 yr old men friends as "my dear boy". Pompous old women do that sort of thing. I know because I am one, though Mrs Bradley is rich and I'm poor, so I have nothing like her excuse.
One expects the police force to be populated with bumblers, this is after all a Golden Age mystery. However, reading it from a modern day perspective, a good legal counsel would rip their case to shreds in a single argument, so circumstantial it is. The cops sit around talking about "rumour has it" without doing any real investigation into said rumours. Their idea of investigating seems to be standing around in the great house, asking the same people the same questions over and over.
To add insult to idiocy, we are treated to two (count em, two) tell not show summings up, one in the garden and one after the authoress has attempted to obfuscate and simply twisted her plot out of shape. The ending was an insult to the reader's intelligence.
Why did Mitchell feel she had to make her MC so very physically and emotionally unattractive? She compares Bradley to a predator, a serpent, a saurian, a lizard, a bird of prey with talons and claws and sharp eyes and teeth. Her behaviour is bizarre: she hoots with inappropriate laughter, cackles, screams, etc. I don't mind her referring to the 20 yr old woman as "child"; since I got within spitting distance of 60 myself I have had to take firm hold on my tendency to speak to 40 yr old men friends as "my dear boy". Pompous old women do that sort of thing. I know because I am one, though Mrs Bradley is rich and I'm poor, so I have nothing like her excuse.
One expects the police force to be populated with bumblers, this is after all a Golden Age mystery. However, reading it from a modern day perspective, a good legal counsel would rip their case to shreds in a single argument, so circumstantial it is. The cops sit around talking about "rumour has it" without doing any real investigation into said rumours. Their idea of investigating seems to be standing around in the great house, asking the same people the same questions over and over.
To add insult to idiocy, we are treated to two (count em, two) tell not show summings up, one in the garden and one after the authoress has attempted to obfuscate and simply twisted her plot out of shape. The ending was an insult to the reader's intelligence.
January 17, 2016
After my last less than successful Mrs Bradley read, I wasn't expecting to enjoy this. This is another reread, and I remembered that the first time I read this, I was really annoyed with it. It started out irritatingly -- two separate people see the obvious suspect hiding a spade and then heading into the woods at night to dig a grave right after telling a really obvious lie about his cousin with who he quarrelled going to America, and they both decide, with no consultation, that hey, he's a nice guy, they should cover for him and not tell anyone about this.
The second half of the book got better. There were only a couple of minor irritations, mostly caused by Mrs Bradley's need to score points off the police in a completely unnecessary way, and also by her resolution of the murder, which relied heavily on monomania. I was also frustrated with how slow the police were. There is a wood beside the murdered man's house. He was seen walking into the wood with obvious suspect, and never seen again. Searching the wood should have been the first thing the police did! I think the book was saved for me because I enjoyed the characters of Felicity, Aubrey, the kleptomaniac vicar and Margery.
The second half of the book got better. There were only a couple of minor irritations, mostly caused by Mrs Bradley's need to score points off the police in a completely unnecessary way, and also by her resolution of the murder, which relied heavily on monomania. I was also frustrated with how slow the police were. There is a wood beside the murdered man's house. He was seen walking into the wood with obvious suspect, and never seen again. Searching the wood should have been the first thing the police did! I think the book was saved for me because I enjoyed the characters of Felicity, Aubrey, the kleptomaniac vicar and Margery.
November 19, 2023
Three and a half stars.
Mrs Bradley is (I think) a wonderful creation. It appears she is a bit like Marmite; you either love her or can't stand her.
This is a very early one and I feel that Gladys was still feeling her way with her. The plot is very convoluted and I found it difficult to follow at times. I had it all made clear in her notes at the end. As I have said in other reviews of her books, Mrs Bradley is often all knowing but we, the poor readers, are not always privy to how she knows what she knows. Excellently drawn characters, especially Mrs Bryce Harringay but the witty "jolly hockey sticks" banter of her son Aubrey became very tiresome after a while.
Quite enjoyable and "Superbly Odd" according to The Independent newspaper.
Mrs Bradley is (I think) a wonderful creation. It appears she is a bit like Marmite; you either love her or can't stand her.
This is a very early one and I feel that Gladys was still feeling her way with her. The plot is very convoluted and I found it difficult to follow at times. I had it all made clear in her notes at the end. As I have said in other reviews of her books, Mrs Bradley is often all knowing but we, the poor readers, are not always privy to how she knows what she knows. Excellently drawn characters, especially Mrs Bryce Harringay but the witty "jolly hockey sticks" banter of her son Aubrey became very tiresome after a while.
Quite enjoyable and "Superbly Odd" according to The Independent newspaper.
July 17, 2014
Second in this Mrs. Bradley series and the victim is the disliked owner if Manor House. There is no shortage of suspects and scandal and Mrs. Bradley is able to sort it out in due time.
January 10, 2015
An excellent read. For me, how a crime book should be written. Very little gore or intimate personal relationship. They get on with telling you the story. Tempted to give it 5*
December 5, 2021
Both smug and tedious. I don't think I'll be reading any more about the bizarre Mrs Bradley.
February 24, 2023
See my review here:
https://whatmeread.wordpress.com/2023...
https://whatmeread.wordpress.com/2023...
September 13, 2025
A good series off to a rocky start.
This is the second Mrs Bradley mystery and should properly have been reviewed ten years ago, when I reviewed the earliest volumes in the series. Unfortunately, some of the earlier books weren't available as Kindle editions and this was one of them. Now it's appeared and I hope the others do, too. When I read a series, I like to see how it started.
Mitchell was still getting her feet under her when she wrote this one. Some of the characters who make the later books so enjoyable have yet to appear. Chauffeur George and secretary Laura Menzies are still in the future. Also, Mitchell makes the beginning writer's mistake of packing too much into one book. An experienced author learns to carefully husband his/her material and stretch it out as far as possible.
On the flip side, we see Mrs Bradley moving into the Stone House in Wandles Parva, which will feature largely in future books. She's a shock to the inhabitants and not welcomed by all of them. The murder victim's haughty aunt loathes Mrs Bradley who failed to respond to Mrs Bryce Harringay's social invitations. Had she known Mrs Bryce Harringay, she would have changed her name and moved to avoid her. I would, anyway.
The murder victim is the owner of the Manor House Rupert Sethleigh. Sethleigh is cordially disliked by many of his neighbors. He collects embarrassing information about people, although there's no evidence he's ever blackmailed anyone. Maybe he just likes the sense of power it gives him. He's also a seducer of daughters and wives, so jealous husbands and angry fathers are after him.
At first, it's uncertain what happened to him. The younger cousin who lives with him (James Redsey) claims Sethleigh has gone to America, but his aunt poo-poos that idea on the grounds of Rupert's well-known sea-sickness and his dislike of Americans. The two cousins had quarreled and Mrs Bryce Harringay claims she saw them walk into the woods together on the day of Sethleigh's disappearance.
Then a headless, dismembered body shows up in a butcher's shop. If it's a joke, it's in very bad taste. And the head keeps moving around, which irritates the police. For one thing, Rupert's false teeth have been located and they need the skull to see if the teeth fit or not. If there's one thing a cop hates, it's an inconsiderate murderer.
I think you're either a Mrs Bradley fan or you're not. I am, so I enjoyed it, although not as much as some later ones. Mitchell was a childless spinster, but a life-long teacher. Her young characters are charming and completely realistic. Mrs Bryce Harringay's schoolboy son and the vicar's strong-minded daughter Felicity are eager detectives and sure they know more about the murder than the police do. The police don't think so, but are tolerant of spirited youngsters. They DO resent the buried fish and who can blame them?
In addition to Rupert Sethleigh's relatives, there's a strange trio living in a nearby cottage. They seem to be two artists and the lovely Lulu who models for them. Naturally, the neighborhood is happily scandalized by this example of promiscuity, although Mrs Bradley thinks it's more traditional than they know.
Jim Redsey was his cousin's heir, but they had quarreled and Rupert was changing his will. This gives Redsey a fine motive for murder (two, really) but he claims he didn't know about the will changes. Also, he might have killed his cousin, but he doesn't look good for dismembering the corpse and disposing of it in the butcher shop. Could more than one person have been involved?
The premise is absurd, but the characters are good enough to make up for it. That's my opinion. It may or may not be yours. There's plenty of humor, thanks to the pompous Mrs Bryce Harringay. It's sure not Mitchell's best, so don't let it be your first Mrs Bradley. But if you love the series, it's fun to go back and see how it got started.
This is the second Mrs Bradley mystery and should properly have been reviewed ten years ago, when I reviewed the earliest volumes in the series. Unfortunately, some of the earlier books weren't available as Kindle editions and this was one of them. Now it's appeared and I hope the others do, too. When I read a series, I like to see how it started.
Mitchell was still getting her feet under her when she wrote this one. Some of the characters who make the later books so enjoyable have yet to appear. Chauffeur George and secretary Laura Menzies are still in the future. Also, Mitchell makes the beginning writer's mistake of packing too much into one book. An experienced author learns to carefully husband his/her material and stretch it out as far as possible.
On the flip side, we see Mrs Bradley moving into the Stone House in Wandles Parva, which will feature largely in future books. She's a shock to the inhabitants and not welcomed by all of them. The murder victim's haughty aunt loathes Mrs Bradley who failed to respond to Mrs Bryce Harringay's social invitations. Had she known Mrs Bryce Harringay, she would have changed her name and moved to avoid her. I would, anyway.
The murder victim is the owner of the Manor House Rupert Sethleigh. Sethleigh is cordially disliked by many of his neighbors. He collects embarrassing information about people, although there's no evidence he's ever blackmailed anyone. Maybe he just likes the sense of power it gives him. He's also a seducer of daughters and wives, so jealous husbands and angry fathers are after him.
At first, it's uncertain what happened to him. The younger cousin who lives with him (James Redsey) claims Sethleigh has gone to America, but his aunt poo-poos that idea on the grounds of Rupert's well-known sea-sickness and his dislike of Americans. The two cousins had quarreled and Mrs Bryce Harringay claims she saw them walk into the woods together on the day of Sethleigh's disappearance.
Then a headless, dismembered body shows up in a butcher's shop. If it's a joke, it's in very bad taste. And the head keeps moving around, which irritates the police. For one thing, Rupert's false teeth have been located and they need the skull to see if the teeth fit or not. If there's one thing a cop hates, it's an inconsiderate murderer.
I think you're either a Mrs Bradley fan or you're not. I am, so I enjoyed it, although not as much as some later ones. Mitchell was a childless spinster, but a life-long teacher. Her young characters are charming and completely realistic. Mrs Bryce Harringay's schoolboy son and the vicar's strong-minded daughter Felicity are eager detectives and sure they know more about the murder than the police do. The police don't think so, but are tolerant of spirited youngsters. They DO resent the buried fish and who can blame them?
In addition to Rupert Sethleigh's relatives, there's a strange trio living in a nearby cottage. They seem to be two artists and the lovely Lulu who models for them. Naturally, the neighborhood is happily scandalized by this example of promiscuity, although Mrs Bradley thinks it's more traditional than they know.
Jim Redsey was his cousin's heir, but they had quarreled and Rupert was changing his will. This gives Redsey a fine motive for murder (two, really) but he claims he didn't know about the will changes. Also, he might have killed his cousin, but he doesn't look good for dismembering the corpse and disposing of it in the butcher shop. Could more than one person have been involved?
The premise is absurd, but the characters are good enough to make up for it. That's my opinion. It may or may not be yours. There's plenty of humor, thanks to the pompous Mrs Bryce Harringay. It's sure not Mitchell's best, so don't let it be your first Mrs Bradley. But if you love the series, it's fun to go back and see how it got started.
March 20, 2024
On the plus side, Mitchell comes up with some interesting storylines, then dissipates their quality in rambling narrative, tortuous dialogue, and simplistic psychology (particularly relevant as her sleuth is supposed to be a 'pyscho-analyst' with some some self-opinionated expertise in human psychology).
Give Mitchell credit, too, for introducing a female sleuth (before Marple shot to prominence), and making her a self-opinionated, self-confident, bloody-minded woman of the world rather than a retiring spinster.
So we have the usual murder - a murder mystery without a murder would be a corpse too few: we have a body (or most of it), it's unidentified, but we have a missing man, whereabouts unknown, we have the usual run of cosy suspects (from vicars to doctors to lawyers), we have a policeman who is prepared to operate on the periphery while the amateur detective gets free run of the investigation, and we get a lot of people with evidence, opinions and suspicions which they are often too keen to reveal, too ready to conceal, too capable of misrepresenting or distorting, too determined - or too shy - to voice.
And we get page after page of tedious conversation and dialogue more effective than a sleeping pill. Published in 1929, it's the voice of the English upper classes. Mitchell's father was Scots, he was a tradesman, she was born in Oxfordshire, she wasn't part of the English upper classes, she appears both aspirational and excluded.
If I were to begin psychoanalysing her writing, well, she certainly embraces a voice which is all English, Tory, Church of England, and Rule Britannia. Was that the voice of a woman excluded from society, was it an aspirational one ... or is there a hint of mockery?
Published in 1929, with Fascism on the rise, Capitalism plunged into chaos, and Communism part of the West's daily political curriculum, there's nary a political voice raised in the story, just obsequious respect for upper class culture and social norms.
Mrs.Bradley was launched into the market for sleuths before Miss Marple cornered it; is it significant that whereas Mitchell churned out over 60 Bradley stories, it's Christie's invention who would have the more impressive shelf life (and TV ... and cinema)? Christie was as obsequiously English upper-class as they come - Tory, C-of-E, Rule Britannia, God save the Monarch.
Mitchell's books are hideously over-written. Not a bad plot - she had an eye for a story, for a twist or two. Not a bad plot, but made soporific by page after page after page of people talking at one another. Mitchell has a habit of getting her creatures to make speeches to one another. She may have been a modern woman, seeking independence, finding a career in teaching and writing, escaping from that birthright of being born into trade rather than into the elite class, but the writing gets deplorably dated at times.
The language is all the patois of the upper classes (jolly hockeysticks, cricket on the green). Bradley does talk to the peasants - they see things - and we get regular abuses of language which make "Cor blimey Mary Poppins" seem like an authentic piece of working class characterisation. Forget yer actual sexism and racism, it's the self-righteous elitism of the English elites which really sticks in my craw. Reading this, I would quite happily have seen all the characters murdered.
Interesting plot, best to employ someone to wake you every ten minutes so you can continue trying to follow it.
Give Mitchell credit, too, for introducing a female sleuth (before Marple shot to prominence), and making her a self-opinionated, self-confident, bloody-minded woman of the world rather than a retiring spinster.
So we have the usual murder - a murder mystery without a murder would be a corpse too few: we have a body (or most of it), it's unidentified, but we have a missing man, whereabouts unknown, we have the usual run of cosy suspects (from vicars to doctors to lawyers), we have a policeman who is prepared to operate on the periphery while the amateur detective gets free run of the investigation, and we get a lot of people with evidence, opinions and suspicions which they are often too keen to reveal, too ready to conceal, too capable of misrepresenting or distorting, too determined - or too shy - to voice.
And we get page after page of tedious conversation and dialogue more effective than a sleeping pill. Published in 1929, it's the voice of the English upper classes. Mitchell's father was Scots, he was a tradesman, she was born in Oxfordshire, she wasn't part of the English upper classes, she appears both aspirational and excluded.
If I were to begin psychoanalysing her writing, well, she certainly embraces a voice which is all English, Tory, Church of England, and Rule Britannia. Was that the voice of a woman excluded from society, was it an aspirational one ... or is there a hint of mockery?
Published in 1929, with Fascism on the rise, Capitalism plunged into chaos, and Communism part of the West's daily political curriculum, there's nary a political voice raised in the story, just obsequious respect for upper class culture and social norms.
Mrs.Bradley was launched into the market for sleuths before Miss Marple cornered it; is it significant that whereas Mitchell churned out over 60 Bradley stories, it's Christie's invention who would have the more impressive shelf life (and TV ... and cinema)? Christie was as obsequiously English upper-class as they come - Tory, C-of-E, Rule Britannia, God save the Monarch.
Mitchell's books are hideously over-written. Not a bad plot - she had an eye for a story, for a twist or two. Not a bad plot, but made soporific by page after page after page of people talking at one another. Mitchell has a habit of getting her creatures to make speeches to one another. She may have been a modern woman, seeking independence, finding a career in teaching and writing, escaping from that birthright of being born into trade rather than into the elite class, but the writing gets deplorably dated at times.
The language is all the patois of the upper classes (jolly hockeysticks, cricket on the green). Bradley does talk to the peasants - they see things - and we get regular abuses of language which make "Cor blimey Mary Poppins" seem like an authentic piece of working class characterisation. Forget yer actual sexism and racism, it's the self-righteous elitism of the English elites which really sticks in my craw. Reading this, I would quite happily have seen all the characters murdered.
Interesting plot, best to employ someone to wake you every ten minutes so you can continue trying to follow it.
Read
December 25, 2022When Rupert Sethleigh’s body is found one morning, laid out in the village butcher shop but minus its head, the inhabitants of Wandles Parva aren’t particularly upset. Sethleigh was a blackmailing moneylender and when the peerless detective and renowned psycholanalyst Mrs Bradley begins her investigation she finds no shortage of suspects. It soon transpires that most of the village seem to have been wandering about Manor Woods, home of the mysterious druidic stone on which Sethleigh’s blood is found splashed, on the night he was murdered, but can she eliminate the red herrings and catch the real killer?
Gladys Mitchell’s Mrs Bradley is a wondrous creation. She’s gnarled, rich and wickedly humoured. She’s also interfering. These qualities makes her a perfect candidate of a detective. And like Christie or Doyle Mitchell was quite prolific.
To give you an idea Vintage have already published 13 books featuring this devilish detective and and this month are going to be releasing 20 more (4 normal paperbacks with 16 as print on demand and all are available as ebooks). They’ve been coming out quite sporadically up until now with Vintage choosing their favourites before filling in some gaps.
This is to explain why I’m now reading Mrs Bradley’s second appearance (my next read is the first the series Speedy Death) but from the ones I’ve read so far it doesn’t seem to matter what order you read them in as Mrs Bradley doesn’t have any development but is more a mechanism to let the other characters kill each other and then nose around until she finds the murderer.
I read this one in two parts. The first half I read last year (around Halloween) but I picked it back up a few days ago and devoured the rest. Partly what I struggled with in the first half is the habit Mitchell has of dropping you into a scene with lots of dialogue but not grounding you in the scene by having the characters give some context to the scene.
It’s not something I struggled with from reading her other books and I think Mitchell got lots of opportunities to practice her technique. But maybe it was me as well as I was much more comfortable with the cast of characters and what was being described when I picked it up again. Maybe it just took some time to get up to speed? As for the murder itself as it says in the blurb it looks quite simple but pinning it down takes Mrs Bradley some time.
The cast of characters here is entertaining with their personalities all quite different. Mitchell is great at exploring motivations and giving them layers of problems and interest so that no character feels like a cardboard walk-on. And when I got to the end I was annoyed in a good way as Mitchell manages to keeps you on your toes. Mrs Bradley is no goody two-shoes and the ending proves it.
As a book which is 84 years old you may think it would have dated but it doesn’t really. It doesn’t have modern obsessions with gore, flawed detectives, and its glamour is understated rather than gaudy. It feels classical if that makes sense.
I honestly can’t wait to see where Mitchell places Mrs Bradley next.
Gladys Mitchell’s Mrs Bradley is a wondrous creation. She’s gnarled, rich and wickedly humoured. She’s also interfering. These qualities makes her a perfect candidate of a detective. And like Christie or Doyle Mitchell was quite prolific.
To give you an idea Vintage have already published 13 books featuring this devilish detective and and this month are going to be releasing 20 more (4 normal paperbacks with 16 as print on demand and all are available as ebooks). They’ve been coming out quite sporadically up until now with Vintage choosing their favourites before filling in some gaps.
This is to explain why I’m now reading Mrs Bradley’s second appearance (my next read is the first the series Speedy Death) but from the ones I’ve read so far it doesn’t seem to matter what order you read them in as Mrs Bradley doesn’t have any development but is more a mechanism to let the other characters kill each other and then nose around until she finds the murderer.
I read this one in two parts. The first half I read last year (around Halloween) but I picked it back up a few days ago and devoured the rest. Partly what I struggled with in the first half is the habit Mitchell has of dropping you into a scene with lots of dialogue but not grounding you in the scene by having the characters give some context to the scene.
It’s not something I struggled with from reading her other books and I think Mitchell got lots of opportunities to practice her technique. But maybe it was me as well as I was much more comfortable with the cast of characters and what was being described when I picked it up again. Maybe it just took some time to get up to speed? As for the murder itself as it says in the blurb it looks quite simple but pinning it down takes Mrs Bradley some time.
The cast of characters here is entertaining with their personalities all quite different. Mitchell is great at exploring motivations and giving them layers of problems and interest so that no character feels like a cardboard walk-on. And when I got to the end I was annoyed in a good way as Mitchell manages to keeps you on your toes. Mrs Bradley is no goody two-shoes and the ending proves it.
As a book which is 84 years old you may think it would have dated but it doesn’t really. It doesn’t have modern obsessions with gore, flawed detectives, and its glamour is understated rather than gaudy. It feels classical if that makes sense.
I honestly can’t wait to see where Mitchell places Mrs Bradley next.
August 16, 2025
3* for the mystery, with all its twists, turns, and red herrings.
2.5* based on my rant below.
I have enjoyed the first two Mrs. Bradley mysteries, so far, because they are different from many of the other well-known titles from the Golden Age of Detective Fiction. A wealthy individual is missing, a headless body is found, and a string of unusual events occur. Are they connected? That's what we'll find out... eventually.
However, I do have one problem that has afflicted both volumes I've read and grates on my nerves. The author continually describes her main character (Mrs. Bradley) in those most unflattering ways... continually, I re-emphasize... We're constantly told how ugly, old, and other terms, Mrs. Bradley is. And she is described as "cackling" all the time; she never chuckles or smiles or chortles, etc. The only semi-flattering thing implied is that she is intelligent. As some one that is now old, not young and passably attractive any more, but still pretty smart, I may simply be taking it personally. But in this era when "body image" is a concern and we're finally able to have main characters that aren't always simply Barbie clones, it may bother others too. I still enjoy the story, but find this part very distracting.
Remember this was originally published in 1929, so there are other terms or situations that might not fit today. I can overlook those because they fit the historical period, whether I like them or not. But there is no need to constantly remind readers how unappealing (supposedly) Mrs. Bradley is; other characters aren't portrayed in the same way all the time!
Recommended, with the above "warning".
2.5* based on my rant below.
I have enjoyed the first two Mrs. Bradley mysteries, so far, because they are different from many of the other well-known titles from the Golden Age of Detective Fiction. A wealthy individual is missing, a headless body is found, and a string of unusual events occur. Are they connected? That's what we'll find out... eventually.
However, I do have one problem that has afflicted both volumes I've read and grates on my nerves. The author continually describes her main character (Mrs. Bradley) in those most unflattering ways... continually, I re-emphasize... We're constantly told how ugly, old, and other terms, Mrs. Bradley is. And she is described as "cackling" all the time; she never chuckles or smiles or chortles, etc. The only semi-flattering thing implied is that she is intelligent. As some one that is now old, not young and passably attractive any more, but still pretty smart, I may simply be taking it personally. But in this era when "body image" is a concern and we're finally able to have main characters that aren't always simply Barbie clones, it may bother others too. I still enjoy the story, but find this part very distracting.
Remember this was originally published in 1929, so there are other terms or situations that might not fit today. I can overlook those because they fit the historical period, whether I like them or not. But there is no need to constantly remind readers how unappealing (supposedly) Mrs. Bradley is; other characters aren't portrayed in the same way all the time!
Recommended, with the above "warning".
June 18, 2018
I'm fascinated at how slightly "off" both Mrs. Bradley mysteries that I have read have been. Like her peers (Christie, Sayers & Allingham) Mitchell sets her stories in what is now a cliched British milieu of quaint villages, befuddled vicars, nosey elderly spinsters & kind hearted but oblivious country policemen. The characters speak in a similar style to those other Golden Era detective novels - "Oh I say! What a bally throw that was! Well done, Bertie!" The crimes are solved by a little old lady with a preternatural ability to see the truth.
So what is different? Mitchell adds a twist of shocking strangeness that was not common in the early 1930s. In the first book, there is a trans character - a woman who has been living as a man and having relationships with women - and no one really bats an eye other than to be somewhat vaguely embarrassed by the whole situation. In this book, the body is dismembered and found hanging on hooks. Yikes! That is more gruesome than the usual poisoning by arsenic or blow to the head with a heavy candlestick. I don't dislike these sort of twists - I like it. It adds some excitement and freshness to what can be a tired format.
I've been reading up on Mitchell since I discovered her books and I think this quote from Disclaimer magazine explains her best. "Reading Gladys Mitchell is like reading Margery Allingham paying homage to Agatha Christie on acid."
So what is different? Mitchell adds a twist of shocking strangeness that was not common in the early 1930s. In the first book, there is a trans character - a woman who has been living as a man and having relationships with women - and no one really bats an eye other than to be somewhat vaguely embarrassed by the whole situation. In this book, the body is dismembered and found hanging on hooks. Yikes! That is more gruesome than the usual poisoning by arsenic or blow to the head with a heavy candlestick. I don't dislike these sort of twists - I like it. It adds some excitement and freshness to what can be a tired format.
I've been reading up on Mitchell since I discovered her books and I think this quote from Disclaimer magazine explains her best. "Reading Gladys Mitchell is like reading Margery Allingham paying homage to Agatha Christie on acid."
May 19, 2021
Grotesque Entertainment
I'm not sure why I keep trying Gladys Mitchell's Golden Age murder mysteries since I rarely find them satisfying. I feel that I ought to admire her central character, Mrs Bradley - a successful professional women in an era when these were rare - but I just cannot. Unlike Agatha Christie's elderly detective, Miss Marple, psychoanalyst Mrs Bradley is never self-effacing. She capers and cackles in extraordinary clothing, being as conspicuous as possible, and deals with the crimes she investigates according to her own unique moral code. Sounds great? Well it depends on whether you trust her judgements and I think she makes a shocking one at the end of this novel.
I'm probably taking the whole thing too seriously and should just accept `The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop' as grotesque entertainment. The story concerns the mysterious disappearance of the unpopular owner of the Manor House at Wandles Parva - a village inhabited by a range of eccentrics including an absent-minded Vicar, a formidable aunt and a Bohemian artist given to practical jokes - and the sudden appearance of a disjointed human body in a local butcher's shop. Written in a jaunty tone it is like a Woodhouse novel with psychopaths and severed limbs. If you enjoy watching `Midsomer Murders' you may well like this.
I'm not sure why I keep trying Gladys Mitchell's Golden Age murder mysteries since I rarely find them satisfying. I feel that I ought to admire her central character, Mrs Bradley - a successful professional women in an era when these were rare - but I just cannot. Unlike Agatha Christie's elderly detective, Miss Marple, psychoanalyst Mrs Bradley is never self-effacing. She capers and cackles in extraordinary clothing, being as conspicuous as possible, and deals with the crimes she investigates according to her own unique moral code. Sounds great? Well it depends on whether you trust her judgements and I think she makes a shocking one at the end of this novel.
I'm probably taking the whole thing too seriously and should just accept `The Mystery of a Butcher's Shop' as grotesque entertainment. The story concerns the mysterious disappearance of the unpopular owner of the Manor House at Wandles Parva - a village inhabited by a range of eccentrics including an absent-minded Vicar, a formidable aunt and a Bohemian artist given to practical jokes - and the sudden appearance of a disjointed human body in a local butcher's shop. Written in a jaunty tone it is like a Woodhouse novel with psychopaths and severed limbs. If you enjoy watching `Midsomer Murders' you may well like this.
June 13, 2025
A thoroughly enjoyable book speckled with a few moments of pure genius.
So why 4 stars only? As usual for me, the ending. Three whole chapters (way too much) devoted to explaining how the crime did and did not happen only to leave quite a few loose ends. I feel like Mitchell gave some explanation as to what happened and why in the course of the book and didn't bother to repeat it at the end. But since we aren't supposed to know then that that explanation is the truth, by the time we reach the end we have forgotten all about it! Boy, I longed for a everyone-is-gathered-in-the-living-room-for-the-reveal sort of scene, picking up on each point and reexplaining the whole thing again. I also believe this might have made Mrs Mitchell notice a few flaws in the reasoning.
For, ironically, the psychology behind the culprits' behaviour is quite illogical. I'm not just talking about the murder; even the context that led up to it doesn't always make sense. In the end, I still don't understand why a certain person did what they did after the death or even why they were motivated to kill, what suddenly spurred this on when they seemed quite content to go on like this before... If someone understands that part, please let me know.
So why 4 stars only? As usual for me, the ending. Three whole chapters (way too much) devoted to explaining how the crime did and did not happen only to leave quite a few loose ends. I feel like Mitchell gave some explanation as to what happened and why in the course of the book and didn't bother to repeat it at the end. But since we aren't supposed to know then that that explanation is the truth, by the time we reach the end we have forgotten all about it! Boy, I longed for a everyone-is-gathered-in-the-living-room-for-the-reveal sort of scene, picking up on each point and reexplaining the whole thing again. I also believe this might have made Mrs Mitchell notice a few flaws in the reasoning.
For, ironically, the psychology behind the culprits' behaviour is quite illogical. I'm not just talking about the murder; even the context that led up to it doesn't always make sense. In the end, I still don't understand why a certain person did what they did after the death or even why they were motivated to kill, what suddenly spurred this on when they seemed quite content to go on like this before... If someone understands that part, please let me know.
December 12, 2021
True, this one takes it's long, narrow and winding village roads. There might be one red herring too many in it. Still, it's an intriguing read for the monstrosity of the behavior described. Human joints on butcher's hooks, a skull obtained through boiling its flesh down via cooking, need I say more? The circumstances of the crime are complex, the progression of events in the summer night of interest is rather unbelievable. Indeed, there seems to be a lot of progression in the Manor Woods at night. "These woods appear to have a curios attraction for all kinds of undesirable persons".
Still, an enjoyable read as Bradley once again entertains with her wit, dry sense of humor and particular take on killing in general. Here, the author proposes a very distinct view of murder, making that the required method of identifying the responsible person lies not merely in ordering observations, but in examining psychological suitability. Moreover, notice how Bradley is a sleuth with "agency", so the speak.
However, I do not think this will be one of the top Mitchell's I will encounter in my discovery of her work.
Still, an enjoyable read as Bradley once again entertains with her wit, dry sense of humor and particular take on killing in general. Here, the author proposes a very distinct view of murder, making that the required method of identifying the responsible person lies not merely in ordering observations, but in examining psychological suitability. Moreover, notice how Bradley is a sleuth with "agency", so the speak.
However, I do not think this will be one of the top Mitchell's I will encounter in my discovery of her work.
August 5, 2021
It takes a while to adjust to the style of the Mrs. Bradley series; certainly I find them unlike most of the other golden era offerings. The writing is superb, the settings range from melodramatic to classic (country house, quiet village etc.) but there are elements of gothic fiction not just in the plotting but in the characters. Mrs. Bradley is a grotesque if likeable figure. Her infuriating habit of explaining the crime away one way, only to renounce that explanation and explain it another way, coupled with her rather ungenerous habit of holding the cards too close to her chest for even the reader to see, can be irritating but the compensation of the witty, and atmospheric writing helps.
This book is one of the more standard, classic plots; a disappearance, a murder, a dollop of romance and lots of her trademark psychology. The characters are likeable and there's plenty of false leads, and suspicious characters. My only real quibble was the solution felt flat, slightly unsatisfying but it's well worth the read like most of the series.
This book is one of the more standard, classic plots; a disappearance, a murder, a dollop of romance and lots of her trademark psychology. The characters are likeable and there's plenty of false leads, and suspicious characters. My only real quibble was the solution felt flat, slightly unsatisfying but it's well worth the read like most of the series.
June 12, 2017
My edition has the Independent quoted as calling the book 'Superbly odd' on its front cover. While I can agree wholeheartedly with the 'odd', I'm not so convinced of the 'superbly' ... but it is an enjoyable read if you suspend belief and are ready for some of the 'jolly hockey sticks' dialogue (well it was written in 1930).
I'd add a warning for those who come to the book having loved the wonderful Mrs Bradley character created by Diana Rigg (and the screenwriters) for TV ... while some of the characteristics of the book's character are used to inform the TV version, the physical appearance of Mrs Bradley, as described in the book, certainly isn't.
I'd add a warning for those who come to the book having loved the wonderful Mrs Bradley character created by Diana Rigg (and the screenwriters) for TV ... while some of the characteristics of the book's character are used to inform the TV version, the physical appearance of Mrs Bradley, as described in the book, certainly isn't.
June 12, 2022
I have loved many of Mitchell's Mrs. Bradley's mysteries, but couldn't even finish this one. I gave up even before Mrs. Bradley appeared, being so annoyed at some of the characters laid out early, especially a 15 year old boy whose manner of speech was the equivalent of reading nails on a blackboard (he insisted on calling his mother "mater," for one thing.) The crime seemed unusual and interesting but the inhabitants of the country home were all pretty inane and I didn't want to spend any more time in their company. Disappointing.
January 18, 2020
An interesting little tale, well told and quite enjoyable. Mrs Bradley is quite a character, but not one I personally took to. Gladys Mitchell was a prolific author, and this is obvious from the style of her writing which I felt didn't have quite the same depth of characterisation as Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh or Margery Allingham. Although I enjoyed this book, I don't see myself rushing to buy another by this author.
January 28, 2021
Very hard to follow, especially with the English adjectives
I really wanted to like this book, but there were too many characters that were alike, several sets of relatives, two clergymen and a too many different descriptions of the same crime scene. I did finish the book, but still don't know who the real killer was. Also, who put the fish inside the suitcase? I thought it was the boy but nobody claimed it. I would like to read another one of these, but maybe not.
I really wanted to like this book, but there were too many characters that were alike, several sets of relatives, two clergymen and a too many different descriptions of the same crime scene. I did finish the book, but still don't know who the real killer was. Also, who put the fish inside the suitcase? I thought it was the boy but nobody claimed it. I would like to read another one of these, but maybe not.
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