I really enjoy Bryant and May. I really enjoy Fowler’s writing. It’s such a shame that the author finds it necessary to run his mouth as obnoxiously as he does on his blog. But it’s his blog, so he can say whatever he wants, and I can stop reading it whenever I want. Which was when his “those Americans have trouble brushing their teeth because they might have to put down their guns” attitude got up my nose.
Oh! Speaking of which: “In Britain, we have ‘equality of arms,’ which allows the same resources to be made available to both defence and prosecution, and broadly speaking this idea of balance filters down through the system. There’s a reason why the Old Bailey’s statue of Justice holds scales. It means we don’t get such outrageous courtroom dramas as O. J. Simpson fiddling with a glove, but the end result is often fairer.”
Why am I reading this guy again?
There have been discussions out there about whether and how an author’s politics or personal behavior or whatever affect whether and how people read his writing. I guess in this case the fact that the author literally makes me physically ill means that I’m done with the series. Oh well. On the plus side, he mentioned lots and lots of classic authors I can go explore instead.
I had notes on this book. I had lots to say, about the old fart (and surprisingly racist) main characters and the entertaining supporting characters, and the weird and twisty plots, and … so on. But I … don’t care anymore. And yeah, my rating for this (and all of his other books)? Oops. Had a little slip there.
The only note I feel I have to retain is on this quote: “… after the dark realities of the previous two books I needed to write something lighter and funnier, so this is one of Bryant and May’s ‘sorbet stories’—something refreshing after a big meal.”
The story is about a dead baby.
The usual disclaimer: I received this book via Netgalley for review.