A review by anovelreader
Silhouette in Scarlet by Elizabeth Peters

4.0

For general thoughts on the Vicky Bliss series, please see my review of [b:Street of the Five Moons|41055|Street of the Five Moons (Vicky Bliss, #2)|Elizabeth Peters|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1297727852l/41055._SY75_.jpg|40635].

Like the others in this series, I've read this about a million times despite it being one of the more forgettable books. In Silhouette in Scarlet, Vicky travels to a foreign land (Sweden) to investigate a mystery involving art/antiquities. John is again involved. She finds herself isolated at the estate of a wealthy native right in the thick of the plot and surrounded by bad guys. John and Vicky become unlikely allies and plan their escape. Sound familiar? That's because it's basically the plot of its predecessor SotFM with some details changed.

I'd say skip this one (again until you decide you're a die-hard fan and need every possible interaction between John and Vicky possible), but elements of this book are referenced in later installments, so it is useful to breeze through. And breeze through you can because SiS (and SotFM) are relatively short, limiting their meatiness. Another reviewer mentioned that there were length limitations on these types of books in this era, which explains a lot.

Here are a few excerpts that demonstrate Vicky's humor:
"No matter; Max has a soft spot for you. And he has the typical middle-aged European male tendency to underestimate women.” “You can eliminate two of those adjectives,” I said.

Most heroines (in which category I account myself, of course) pick up handsome, dashing heroes as they pass through their varied adventures. I seemed to be building up a collection of critical grandpas.

“I object to murder. It’s just a silly girlish prejudice."

And one on the romance -- spoilerish.
I had always known John for what he was—a corrupt, unscrupulous man with the morals of a tomcat—and I’m not referring to the cat’s sexual habits, but to its incurable tendency to put its own interests ahead of everyone else’s. I didn’t love that man; I didn’t even like him. The one I loved was the guy with the perverse sense of humor and the peculiar brand of courage and the occasional streak of quixotry and the clever, twisty mind. But that man was part of the other, buried so deep it was hard to be certain he existed.