Title: True Mystery
Review: A stupid book. I can't recall all of Monsignor Knox's rules for mystery writers, but one of them has to be that your detective shouldn't be an unlikeable moron. This one, for whom ratiocination is clearly a burden, is forever exhausted by her labors. The story is preposterous, the characters are goofy and cartoonish, and the dialogue is unbelievably embarrassing. The most chilling revelation is in the acknowledgments, where we learn that the author was a Visiting Scholar at Oxford. How can this be possible?
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