If books were beverages, Murder of Angels by Jack Gatland would be a double espresso shot mixed with a double gin — strong, confusing, and guaranteed to leave you seeing double. Or, in this case, seeing twins. Everywhere. All the time. I swear by chapter six I needed a family tree, a flowchart, and possibly divine intervention to figure out who was who.
The story flaps its wings with promise — a darkly poetic crime mystery set in the hauntingly atmospheric streets of London, where detectives chase both sinners and saviors. Gatland’s prose is sharp enough to slice through clouds, and the opening chapters are dripping with tension, faith, and fatalism. You can tell the man knows his way around a murder scene — metaphorically speaking, of course (though after this read, I wouldn’t put it past one of his characters to be a secret author on the side).
The premise? A murder mystery tangled with questions of morality, identity, and the blurry line between justice and redemption. There are angels — metaphorical and literal — floating through the narrative, and more twists than a pretzel factory on overtime. Gatland aims high, shooting for celestial noir, and at times, it soars. But then the twins arrive. And another set. And maybe another? Suddenly, I wasn’t reading Murder of Angels — I was reading Multiplicity: The Crime Edition.
Every chapter seemed to introduce a new mirror image, a new set of identical problems, and a brand-new reason to mutter, “Wait, wasn’t she the other one?” under my breath. If confusion were a crime, this book would be serving a life sentence.
Don’t get me wrong — Gatland’s pacing is divine when it clicks. The dialogue crackles with wit, and the detective duo (or was it trio? I lost count) has enough chemistry to light up heaven’s waiting room. There’s tragedy, tension, and a few heart-stopping moments that genuinely sing. But somewhere between the second twin twist and the third angelic metaphor, I felt my soul gently exiting my body, waving a tiny flag that said “I give up.”
By the halfway mark, I was less reading and more decoding. I started giving the characters nicknames — “Serious Twin,” “Mysterious Twin,” “Probably Evil Twin,” and “Oh No, Another Twin.” It helped… a little. By the end, my brain felt like it had gone ten rounds with a celestial Rubik’s Cube.
And yet — and yet! — there’s something undeniably magnetic about Gatland’s world. The man can turn a phrase like nobody’s business, and when the story shines, it’s almost angelic. But even angels fall, and this one crash-landed under the weight of its own reflections.
In short:
• Plot? Heavenly potential.
• Execution? Devilishly confusing.
• Characters? Twice as many as necessary.
• Overall experience? A divine mess with mortal patience required.
If you love noir mysteries, intricate plots, and don’t mind feeling like you’ve wandered into a funhouse full of mirrors, Murder of Angels might be your cup of celestial tea. But for me? Two stars out of five. Too many twins, not enough clarity.
Next time, Mr. Gatland, maybe murder one angel — and give the rest of us mortals a chance to keep up.