TBR #27. Pirate King by Laurie R. King.
First sentence: “‘Honestly, Holmes? Pirates?'”
The two main complaints I have about the eleventh Mary Russell and Sherlock Holmes novel are these: 1) For almost a hundred and fifty of the three hundred pages, there was no Holmes, and 2) for almost two hundred of the three hundred pages, there was no crime. That’s right, folks, a crimeless mystery novel. You didn’t think it could be done, did you?
Well, it can’t.
If you want to read a clever novel about 1920s film, Lisbon, and Morocco, with moments of comedy and derring-do, this is the book for you. Laurie R. King’s writing style is seamless and engaging, even if she does have a cast of nearly fifty with heavy historical seasoning; on the score of being well-written, Pirate King is a ten. But if you are hoping for a murder, or even a theft, possibly with sweeping political ramifications, and some scenes in which Holmes is sardonic or moody, you will be disappointed, as I was.
I’m terribly sad to say it: this might be the last Mary Russell novel I read.
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