My low rating for this book is primarily because this is not a mystery. It is Sheila Connolly's personal love letter to Ireland and more reminiscent of Debbie Macomber than Agatha Christie. If you're looking for women's fiction or like long descriptions of the Irish countryside, you might like this a lot more than I did.
I won't recap the plot because I'm sure other reviewers have done a much better job at that than I could. I will say that it was almost like this was two different books. Novellas, really. The first two hundred pages are about Maura Donovan discovering the village of her ancestors and the surrounding area. The last one hundred pages are where the author appears to have suddenly realized this was supposed to be a mystery.
What was more disconcerting was the change in the main character from the first story to the second. Maura starts out being a nice enough young woman, but rather aimless. She's come to Ireland only because her recently deceased grandmother asked that she go there. She repeats several times the fact that there is nothing back in Boston for her, nothing she would miss. I found this hard to believe. She grew up in Boston, but knows no one she'll miss, no place she'll regret not seeing if she stays in Ireland? I only lived in the Boston area for eight years, but I became a Red Sox fan, still miss the beach in Hull, the Public Garden, the churches I went to, Boston Light, the Freedom Trail, and so many other things. I'm an introvert, but I've kept in touch with people I met there and would like to see again. Surely there would be one friend, one of those new immigrants her gran befriended, a coworker, someone Maura would think about when she was gone.
Sprinkle in a couple of thinly veiled anti-American passages, and it's no wonder so many readers found the MC unlikeable. If you want to have someone like you, don't tell them their house is ugly.
In the last part of the book, Maura is transformed for no discernible reason. The young woman who was so inept and fearful at driving on the left side of the road with a stick shift suddenly decides to take the car down a narrow, rural lane she's never traveled before. As if suddenly remembering she's from Southie, she starts using phrases like "pissed off" and throws in a gratuitous "damn" when she'd never used anything but nice language before. It almost made me laugh. I've known people from Southie and they're much more likely to sprinkle f-bombs throughout their speech than to use mild obscenities. Without giving anything away, Maura also starts acting tough, something she didn't do in the first two-thirds of the book.
Maura isn't an amateur sleuth. She just happens to run across some information she turns over to the police. The killer isn't someone the reader would recognize, even though he does make a brief anonymous appearance early in the book. And the ending is absolutely no surprise whatsoever. Any mystery reader would have guessed what would happen at the end of the book by reading the first few pages.
Yes, I was disappointed in this book. Sorry, Sheila.