The victim of the Murder in the Museum is a Shakespeare scholar, who held a theory that “Shakespeare’s plays were written by two people together— one was Shakespeare himself and the other Kit Marlowe”. So obviously I was pleased when he was killed. At least he wasn’t an Oxfordian; I would have had to stop reading, because the death wasn’t brutal enough.
This is a reissue of a Golden Age mystery which involves poison, kidnapping, and a cross-country high-for-its-time-speed pursuit; it features some of the good aspects of the subgenre – a clever detective, some nice writing; and also several of the not-so-good ones – like the mores and mindset of the time, which means that whenever someone who is Jewish comes on the scene or is spoken about, it’s jarring. (Be warned.)
I’m not sure if I’ll hunt out more John Rowland novels – this one didn’t win me over completely – but I’m certainly not sorry I read it. There’s much worse out there. Much.
The usual disclaimer: I received this book via Netgalley for review.