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The Fleet Street Murders

Wednesday, September 28, 2016

The Fleet Street Murders (2009) Charles Finch

fleet-street-murdersSet in England in 1867.

Two prominent journalists are discovered murdered, and the link between the two is the trial and execution of a traitor.

Meanwhile, Charles has decided to stand for Parliament–for an area he’d never previously even visited, because that was politics at that time.

We have two separate thread in this story: the murders and Charles’ run for Parliament, and Charles has a difficult time determining which is more important. That part of the story was interesting, seeing Charles being torn between his hobby and and his desire to sit in Parliament.

We also see the muddled mess that was politics at the time, starting with the fact that Charles could vie for a seat in an area he’d never previously set foot in.

It was a strange political system that led to Hilary representing Liverpool, while the Liberal Party’s current leader in the House, William Gladstone, had grown up in Liverpool but for a long time represented Oxford, of all places. Still, he also believed that his platform would genuinely help the people of Stirrington more than Roodle’s, and he resented the negative, attacking nature of Roodle’s campaign.

Lenox detested the fact, but it was simple enough: In elections for Parliament, bribery mattered. It was no surprise at all when Graham reported that in the Roodle pubs votes were worth two crowns a head.

And I did (of course) like the historical bits about the buildings and places.

It was Alfred the Great who had first gathered in hand the muddled system of moneyers’ workshops in Anglo-Saxon times and founded the London Mint, in 886. By 1279 the Mint was firmly entrenched in the safest single place in England— the Tower of London, where it remained for five centuries. In 1809 it had moved to a vast, golden-stoned building in East Smithfield.

But I was reminded of what had annoyed me about the writing the first time I read the series. The writing is often overblown.

One stooped old man— an oenophile, judging from the excited quiver of his nose over every bottle he smelled— was rooting through a case in the back.

It’s like the author needed an excuse to use the word oenophile, to show off his erudition. That bit would have been better without working the word into the sentence, because you’d still have the sense of the place without the vocabulary less.

But, I kept reading because I do like the historical bits, and I was curious as to how the murder would be resolved. (The man behind the murder was obvious, although many of the details were interesting.)
Rating: 6/10

Published by Minotaur Books

 

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