Lee Jackson's second Inspector Webb novel once again guides readers through the dark alleys and gaslit parlours of nineteenth century London.
“Her arms were bare and milk-white, her hands dainty and graceful; her smileas sweet as any I have ever seen. An awful shame . . .”
In the disreputable dance-halls and ‘houses of accommodation’ of 1870s London, a boastful killer selects his prey. His crimes seem like random acts of malevolence, but Inspector Decimus Webb, promoted to the Detective Branch at Scotland Yard, is not convinced.
Webb begins to suspect a connection between the terrible murders, a mysterious theft at the Abney Park Cemetery, and a long-forgotten suicide. His investigations lead him, in turn, to the Holborn General Mourning Warehouse, devoted to the sale of ‘Mourning for Families, In Correct Taste,’ and its proprietor, one Jasper Woodrow, a seemingly respectable business man.
As Webb delves into Woodrow’s life, he uncovers layer upon layer of deceit. But can he unearth Jasper Woodrow’s darkest secret, in time to prevent another tragedy?
The Welfare of the Dead is a suspense-filled gothic mystery with the Victorian celebration of death at its morbid heart.
On the back of this book it says 'The smoky, horse-dung-laden atmosphere of the London streets steam off the page'. This comment is tributed to the Spectator. Now this is by no means a great book but I think it's a bit harsh to call it a pile of steaming poo! Not to mention the demerits of doing so from a marketing point of view!
OK I'm being a bit facetious but although the story is good, the writing is awful. It's like it hasn't been proof read. Now I'm no scholar but I'm experienced enough to know I could have significantly improved this book by just going through it with a red pen and tidying it up a bit.
Just being a good story is not enough. The reader should not find themself despairing every few lines because of the way it's written.
The Welfare of the Dead is a detective novel set in Victorian London. There are lots of twists and turns and plenty of intrigue but it is written in such a way that it seems to be trying to represent itself as a novel written in Victorian times but in this respect it falls well short. I could cite dozens of minor annoyances to back this up but have neither the time nor the inclination to revisit it to do so. There are also a number of bigger faux pas (for example 'go and get some ice' for an injury in 1870 is probably an unlikely first thought?).
One might ask why I stuck with it if I felt this way and to be completely honest, the reason is quite simply because it is set in the area in which I live and the action takes place on streets I walk down every day! Not a recommendation.
Second if the trilogy, and the 7th of 12 Lee Jackson books he has published so far according to another web site (two under the name LM Jackson) Again, I find his style difficult to maintain complete interest, but it is still a solid read. He really does know Victorian England, I wonder if he wishes he lived in the era! The five other books I have not read of his are also set in that same period. Anyway onward to the final in the trilogy.
Found on a book swap shelf at work. Glad I dint buy it because it wasn’t that good. I’m not good at guessing who dun it but it was obvious. I liked the snap shot of Victorian London but even that didn’t excite me as much as I thought it would. Shame because if it was better I might have read the others.
Les dialogues sont creux, les personnages sont sans aucun développement ni même en mesure de susciter le moindre intérêt. Tout est extrêmement prévisible. Ce fut dur à lire.
Chosen out of Qpd magazine, after finishing, I believe that I shouldnt bother.
There is no doubt that the writer does an excellent job of evoking victorian britian, but the man is not an author and this tells through the obvious twist and lumpen dialogie that fill the pages.
The story leads us to believe that a manager of a store specialising in death paraphanalia (apparently, the victorians liked this), Woodrow, is murdering girls. Starts with a couple of prostitutes and then moves on to a girl in his employ.
A detective Decimus Web and his useless assistant are on this case, and the case of a recently escavated grave..... and of course, the two stories collide with common purpose.
There is a business partner involved, Richard Langley and a fair way before the end of the book, it is obvious that it is him, rather than Woodrow who is the perpretrator of the killings. The empty grave belonged to Woodrow, who earlier in his life had faken his own death.
All a bit wooden and obvious and the speech patterns and dialogues all became a bit wearsome towards the end.
Would not go out of my way to get more of his work.
Fun, atmospheric Victorian setting(the man can write fog!),an amusing and diverting quick read. Cardboard characters including a Snidely Whiplash figure, the visiting American upstart girl cousin, a wise DI and his wisecracking sidekick as well as a long suffering, fashion-obsessed wife, slashed prostitutes, laudanum, and three possible culprits! Spoiler: Professor Plum in the library with a candlestick!