Been a good few weeks for finds. Edmund Crispin’s Swan Song (that was a re-read), a bumper crop of Biggles (put into the TBR pile) and an excellent study of the Charles Bravo case (a great unsolved mystery that I hadn’t heard of until recently – am halfway through the book and really enjoying it).
However I had one great disappointment. I don’t mind reading a modernly written classic era Holmes (the Anthony Horowitz ones are rather good) and this one began with an intriguing premise – that Watson was set up from the start to spy on Holmes. Started well, went downhill rapidly. The original scenes were much better than the retelling of the Conan Doyle bits which were, frankly, dull. Such a curate’s egg of a book. I wish Alex Beecroft or Elin Gregory had written it.