
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I always feel very clever when I find something brilliant and obscure, even when all I did was take a recommendation (thanks, Kate Nepveu!). A series of British mysteries, starring a brilliant but sometimes hapless collection of young barristers and an Oxford tutor who is either remarkably clever or remarkably nosy, depending on whom you ask.
What a delight. Rollickingly funny in places, with a particularly deft touch for letter writing. That distinctively British slant of straight-faced absurdity, if you know what I mean. And it’s not until I read books so calmly nonjudgmental of bisexuality and kink as these that I’m reminded how toxic most of the mystery genre really is on the subject. Women who pursue people they want to fuck, and then fuck them to the delight of all involved, and then walk away with no shame or regret – can you imagine? And then at the end, after all the misadventure and assorted amorous shenanigans that don’t make people slutty or cheap or stupid, each of these books turns around and delivers a clever little solution. Something not just smart, but also pointed and a bit painful, so I breathed in carefully through the last couple pages of every one, as the knot of greed or madness or pain came loose.
Ah.
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