I'm a great devotee of Tey, an aficionado of Wentworth, and was delighted to discover another writer of mid-century mysteries in Alan Hunter. The pace of the novels is leisurely, as the semi-sensational plots wander through richly described landscapes and interiors, and vividly sketched cameo characters wander in and out. The peppermint-cream-chewing, pipe-smoking Chief Inspector has a passion for justice belied by his phlegmatic temperament. None of this may be particularly original in literary terms, but it's pleasing, and Hunter does craft some lovely sentences. All that said: in these four novels, I did not find a single female character with significant agency or interest; where women are of significance to the plot, it's almost invariably because of their emotional involvement with their family members or love interests. Also, there is something unsettling to me about the (apparent) assumptions of Hunter as an author, writing in the mid-50s, that the subtle and blatant lines drawn based on class, on gender, on race, etc. are set to endure, and somehow arising from elemental conditions, or persisting from a past that is, on the whole, reassuringly continuous. I read a fair bit of popular fiction from this period, as well as more "literary" works, and I think this is more a symptom of the author than his historical moment; I think these Gently novels would be more interesting if they treated the ideas (as well as the furniture and towns and clothing and accents) of that time with more specificity. I like the writing enough that I'll probably read a few more in the series to see if Hunter does add such nuance.