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November, 1935. Margaret Thompson, Countess of Chesterleigh, is a gifted artist and something of a free spirit. Taking a nocturnal ramble through her adopted city of San Francisco to gather impressions for her art, she unexpectedly witnesses the senseless shooting of Avrahm Rosenberg, a gentle, inoffensive art dealer of her acquaintance. She tries to summon help. but he bleeds to death in her arms. As a nurse during the Great War, Lady Margaret saw much death that she could do nothing about. This death, she is determined, will be answered for, even if the cop in charge of the case is less than enthusiastic about her involvement. And Lady Margaret, rich, beautiful, resourceful and intelligent, is used to getting her way. There is much to like about this book. The characters are lively and engaging, and the story moves along at a nice clip, with some interesting twists and turns. There are several irritating flaws, however, none of them egregious, but the sheer weight of numbers does intrude annoyingly on the story. For starters, if you choose to portray your main character as a British intellectual aristocrat, you really can't have her making repeated spelling mistakes in the bits that are meant to be her journal entries. Such a person would never, ever write 'discretely' when she meant 'discreetly', 'in need of council', 'here, here' instead of 'hear, hear' or the ever-popular 'poured over' rather than 'pored over'. This is just sloppy; I cheerfully grant that spelling is a different talent from writing, but if the writer is not a good speller, she needs an editor who is. Good grief. A glaring research deficiency is more definitely the author's responsibility -- again, if you choose a British aristocrat as a character, then you simply ought to know that her servants would no more address her as 'Lady', as in 'Yes, Lady' or 'Excuse me, Lady', than they would call her 'Honey', or 'Toots'. It is just so flagrantly wrong that it trips the reader up every single time it happens (frequently), like so many bricks in the road. I do want to emphasize that overall this is an enjoyable book; it's a fun read, brimming with charm, and the author has a good feel for character. There are several nice touches -- as when the tough Irish cop is interviewing the rabbi and momentarily startles them both by addressing him as Father. But I fervently hope the author gets herself an expert editor before bringing out the next in this series.
Reviewed by Diana Sandberg, July 2004
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Contact: Yvonne Klein (ymk@reviewingtheevidence.com)
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