I've mentioned recently how weirdly hard it has been over the past few months to get back into reading. I'm still not sure how I managed, after having read at least a few pages a day every day for my entire life, to get out of reading, but it happened and I hate it and I've been trying to fix it. The Phryne Fisher books very much did not work. This? This helped.
What, I asked myself, looking over the spreadsheet I call The List, would have sharp and clever writing, characters I will like, and would be funny or at least fun without being outright comedy? The List is my, well, list of authors I've enjoyed and their books, marked up with what I've read and what I own and so on, and started out handwritten in a hardcover blank book long ago, but that's beside the point. The point is that, looking over that spreadsheet, I thought .... hey, I haven't read John Dickson Carr in a very long time. And look, there are a few on Everand. And off I went.
And this, finally, was a good choice. The story is brilliant. Without spoilers, the magnificent con that is perpetrated was so satisfyingly audacious and targeted, and the twist early on the story so twisty, that if I didn't know Gideon Fell of yore I would have had grave suspicions about the man saying introducing himself thus. I don't usually enjoy having to give all the characters in a book the side-eye, but this, with the first impressions of half the characters so beautifully upended and the revelation that half of them were in the middle of being conned, was just fun. ("That 'girl' is forty-one, if she's a day" - what a terrific, spiteful, mean touch.)
Nothing and no one is what they seem ... except when they actually are. And did I mention the locked room? You have to love a locked room.
I never stood a chance at figuring out whodunnit, especially listening distracted by such petty concerns as work, but I was perfectly happy tagging along behind the great (in more ways than one) Gideon Fell - always about six jumps ahead of everyone else - smiling at the image of G.K. Chesterton in my head, and enjoying the heck out of the narration (Kris Dyer is wonderful). This was great fun.
Spoiler -
So, you know, be warned -
Don't read any further unless you don't care about a plot point being ruined -
What a great idea for a murder - someone is shot by accident, a very minor wound; the doctor manages to snatch the gun and swoops in to bear the victim, who is in some shock, away, anaesthetizes him, removes the original bullet, and then shoots him again with the same gun in the same place, only more so, killing him. And so, of course, the poor girl who fired the accidental shot would get the blame. It would have worked, too, if not for that pesky major.