I dumped Sherlock Holmes and worshiped Agatha Christie as the Queen of Crime. I subsequently decided to try out Dorothy Sayers, and after reading this, I have one word. And no, it isn't amazing! It is 'disappointing'. I'm so sad, so depressed, but simultaneously happy because I can still regard Christie as the Queen of Crime.
This book doesn't really have a - you know, intriguing plot. I'd say that the author was bored, or exhausted when she wrote this, and it turned out to be, what I call, a cure for my insomnia. Despite futile attempts to get myself to like it, I had to be candid with myself, for an honest review from readers is appreciated throughout.
Skipping past the introduction, the starts with a preposterously stagnate letters, later describing characters. Moving on, the basic synopsis of this story will be something like this.
Peter Wimsey decides to go to a honeymoon to a quiet country house with his bride, Harriet Vane. To their shock, they discover the body of the previous owner. From here starts the monotonous love of Lord Peter, and he clearly expresses it, which, I don't regard bad, but it can get annoying, too; particularly if that bit pops up five times every single page!
Those boys in my class who are craving for a girl's love must read it word to word. They will definitely receive a lot of advice about how to express their "feelings and affection."
When I finally got it my hands, I looked more or less like
But, when I was through with the book,
Thank you, Dorothy Sayers, but I think I'll become Agatha Christie's tail.