324 pages, 276 pages, 276 pages, 244 pages
I know it's a bit cheeky to lump all of these together, but I read them straight one after the other, and four posts seems a bit much. What a coincidence that two of them have exactly the same number of pages.
These are period American crime novels. It's a genre I have avoided for some time after reading the appalling The Interpretation of Murder by Jed Rubenfeld. Oh my that was a dreadful dreadful book. But I digress. These on the other hand are lovely.
For some reason I always find books containing Opium dens rather funny, but I don't know why. There's a lot of detail in here about how to prep your opium for den activity and descriptions of the sort of paraphanalia you might need.
Otherwise it's rather likeable nonsense. Bit of crime; bit of unqualified, unlikely detection; bit of romance; bit of stereotyping. All in all they are easy throwaway reads, perfect for a holiday.
I'll happily read the rest when they are cheap on Kindle.
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