[5 stars for the mystery, 1 for everything else]
"The Black Seraphim" gives every sign of a being an old-fashioned golden age mystery in the Christie/Sayers mode. It's even set in a cathedral close, in a country town: the next best thing to a country house, a setting which was presumably, by 1984, becoming entirely obsolete, while the close was only mostly so. But this is an illusion, generated by the setting and characters: in fact, the book takes a quite different tack from the likes of Christie, for whom crime is the result of the evil that lurks in the hearts of men. Gilbert, instead, is a follower of the noir writers, for whom crime is the result of corruption in society. And for Gilbert, who was apparently an arch-conservative, that corruption has arisen largely as the result of the declining influence of the aristocracy and, in particular, the Church. No Thatcherite, Gilbert is happy to throw business and finance into the pot of enemies, along with labor and the press: the police are doing their best, but without the guidance they should be receiving from their betters there's a limit to what they can do, while the scientists, though not wrong in and of themselves, are being turned to for guidance that ought to come from clerics. (Labor naturally comes in for the meat of the drubbing, with a number of hoary anti-union bromides dragged out: the solution to labor's troubles, apparently, is for good workers to wait for their hard work and loyalty to be rewarded by their employers.) Gilbert writes well, and the mystery itself is handled brilliantly, but the book is saturated by a worldview that I found to be deeply repellent.