A review by chewdigestbooks
Death Makes a Prophet by John Bude
4.0
That's it, I was born not only in the wrong era but the wrong country as well. Ok, so there was the Battle of Britain and the whole nightly bombing thing in London, still, the books and authors get me or I get them. Plus-have you seen the styles and heard the music? Awesome.
Moving right along to Death Makes a Prophet, there have always been weird religious cults everywhere and at every time. This time Superintendent Meredith is called to the scene of what looks like a murder-suicide at a cult's mighty posh retreat until one looks deeper. Then there are suspects galore and the proverbial red herring or three.
Inspector Meredith and this book have a lot of dry wit that was so sadly needed postwar, although I don't think that Meredith means to be funny. (Which makes it all the funnier.) Sometimes he seems to be turning in circles and as new clues come in, he has to reshuffle all of his thoughts.
As to characters in this individual mystery, they are some cooky people, even for a post-war British cult. I nearly died laughing with the truth of one statement by the largest donor.
“Had Mr. Mildmann any enemies?” asked Meredith practically. “What a ridiculous question!” exclaimed Mrs. Hagge-Smith. “It’s quite exhausting enough to find out who are one’s own enemies. How can I conceivably give you a list of poor Eustace’s? Hostility is also a matter of degree. Dislike and hatred are poles apart.”
God help you, if you have that many enemies!
Anyway, this was my first introduction to John Bude and Inspector Meredith and I'll be trying to find the rest of the series. It's also the fourth in the series that I've read from the British Museum/ Poisoned Pen re-release of British detective fiction from the Golden Era and the thrid that knock it out of the park so far. If you like the more traditional and less gory mysteries, you need to check these out.
Moving right along to Death Makes a Prophet, there have always been weird religious cults everywhere and at every time. This time Superintendent Meredith is called to the scene of what looks like a murder-suicide at a cult's mighty posh retreat until one looks deeper. Then there are suspects galore and the proverbial red herring or three.
Inspector Meredith and this book have a lot of dry wit that was so sadly needed postwar, although I don't think that Meredith means to be funny. (Which makes it all the funnier.) Sometimes he seems to be turning in circles and as new clues come in, he has to reshuffle all of his thoughts.
As to characters in this individual mystery, they are some cooky people, even for a post-war British cult. I nearly died laughing with the truth of one statement by the largest donor.
“Had Mr. Mildmann any enemies?” asked Meredith practically. “What a ridiculous question!” exclaimed Mrs. Hagge-Smith. “It’s quite exhausting enough to find out who are one’s own enemies. How can I conceivably give you a list of poor Eustace’s? Hostility is also a matter of degree. Dislike and hatred are poles apart.”
God help you, if you have that many enemies!
Anyway, this was my first introduction to John Bude and Inspector Meredith and I'll be trying to find the rest of the series. It's also the fourth in the series that I've read from the British Museum/ Poisoned Pen re-release of British detective fiction from the Golden Era and the thrid that knock it out of the park so far. If you like the more traditional and less gory mysteries, you need to check these out.