What do you think?
Rate this book
Gervase Fen #10
The Glimpses of the Moon
Death and decapitation seem to go hand in hand in the Devon village of Aller. When the first victim's head is sent floating down the river, the village's rural calm is shattered. Soon the corpses are multiplying and the entire community is involved in the murder hunt. While the rector, the major, the police and a journalist, desperate for the scoop of the century, chase false trails, it is left to Gervase Fen, Oxford don and amateur criminologist, to uncover the sordid truth.
Hardcover
First published January 1, 1977
144 people are currently reading
484 people want to read
About the author
Edmund Crispin
101 books208 followersEdmund Crispin was the pseudonym of (Robert) Bruce Montgomery (1921-1978). His first crime novel and musical composition were both accepted for publication while he was still an undergraduate at Oxford. After a brief spell of teaching, he became a full-time writer and composer (particularly of film music. He wrote the music for six of the Carry On films. But he was also well known for his concert and church music). He also edited science fiction anthologies, and became a regular crime fiction reviewer for The Sunday Times. His friends included Philip Larkin, Kingsley Amis and Agatha Christie.
He had always been a heavy drinker and, unfortunately, there was a long gap in his writing during a time when he was suffering from alcohol problems. Otherwise he enjoyed a quiet life (enlivened by music, reading, church-going and bridge) in Totnes, a quiet corner of Devon, where he resisted all attempts to develop or exploit the district, visiting London as little as possible. He moved to a new house he had built at Week, a hamlet near Dartington, in 1964, then, late in life, married his secretary Ann in 1976, just two years before he died from alcohol related problems. His music was composed using his real name, Bruce Montgomery.
source: http://homepage.ntlworld.com/philipg/...
He had always been a heavy drinker and, unfortunately, there was a long gap in his writing during a time when he was suffering from alcohol problems. Otherwise he enjoyed a quiet life (enlivened by music, reading, church-going and bridge) in Totnes, a quiet corner of Devon, where he resisted all attempts to develop or exploit the district, visiting London as little as possible. He moved to a new house he had built at Week, a hamlet near Dartington, in 1964, then, late in life, married his secretary Ann in 1976, just two years before he died from alcohol related problems. His music was composed using his real name, Bruce Montgomery.
source: http://homepage.ntlworld.com/philipg/...
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 104 reviews
May 22, 2019
This later installment is somewhat at odds with the feel of the earlier books -- there is a strange and to me displeasing juxtaposition of more explicit nastiness (animal torture, human dismemberment, child abuse, unhealthy sexuality) with sudden farcical scenes of slapstick. Even more displeasing was the crude sexual (and usually sexist) jokes that seem to have largely displaced the more literary cleverness that characterized Crispin's earlier books.
The mysteries themselves were convoluted and improbable, as was the bungling of the police. Fen, our amateur detective protagonist, does little detecting and disappears from the narrative for long stretches.
The saving grace of this book was the entertaining secondary characters, especially the Major and the Rector. This was especially evident in contrast with, for instance, book 8 of this series, where everyone was so unpleasant that I hardly cared who got murdered. Unfortunately, the author's distaste for women was in full play here.
Since I did like The Moving Toyshop, I plan to go back and try some of the earlier books in the series, but will likely give the later installments a miss.
The mysteries themselves were convoluted and improbable, as was the bungling of the police. Fen, our amateur detective protagonist, does little detecting and disappears from the narrative for long stretches.
The saving grace of this book was the entertaining secondary characters, especially the Major and the Rector. This was especially evident in contrast with, for instance, book 8 of this series, where everyone was so unpleasant that I hardly cared who got murdered. Unfortunately, the author's distaste for women was in full play here.
Since I did like The Moving Toyshop, I plan to go back and try some of the earlier books in the series, but will likely give the later installments a miss.
March 9, 2023
Ein netter Krimi, aber schon leicht angestaubt und an manchen Stellen schlecht gealtert.
Professor Fen hat Oxford für einen Arbeitsurlaub verlassen und in einem kleinen Dorf in Devonshire Quartier bezogen. Hier sollte er eigentlich an einem Mammutwerk über die britische Nachkriegsliteratur schreiben. Stattdessen faulenzt er mit seinen neuen Bekannten, dem Major und dem Pfarrer. Kurz vor Fens Ankunft geschah zwar ein grausamer Mord, aber das ist längst geklärt und Schnee von gestern. Bis der alte Gobbo offenbart: der verhaftete Mörder kann es nicht gewesen sein. Läuft der Mörder noch frei herum? Es scheint so, denn schon gibt es einen weiteren grausamen Mord auf dem Pfarrfest.
Die Krimihandlung ist unterhaltsam, doch sehr langatmig und ausschweifend erzählt. Der Autor kann diesen Umstand zwar durch seinen ironischen (manchmal sogar selbstironischen) Ton ausgleichen, trotzdem hätte ich mir eine etwas straffere Erzählung gewünscht. Gerade das Fuchsjagd-Kapitel diente nur dem Klamauk und hatte keine inhaltliche Relevanz (dafür aber über 30 Seiten). Etwas schade war, dass es mir als Leserin nicht möglich war, den Fall mitzulösen. Der Autor enthält Informationen vor und zieht am Ende die Lösung überraschend aus dem Sack. Negativ ist auch die Frauenfeindlichkeit, alle Frauen werden sehr abwertend und teilweise auch diskriminierend dargestellt, während die Männer als verschroben, aber liebenswert daher kommen. Es gibt in diesem Buch (außer der Wirtin, die aber eigentlich nicht wirklich vorkommt), keine positive Frauenfigur.
An anderer Stelle habe ich mich etwas gewundert. Hat denn niemand im Verlag die Ausgabe vor der Neuveröffentlichung 2019 gelesen? Mehrfach fällt das N-Wort, was in dem Kontext nicht nötig ist und ohne Inhaltsverlust gegen ein heute gebräuchliches Wort ausgetauscht hätte werden können.
Professor Fen hat Oxford für einen Arbeitsurlaub verlassen und in einem kleinen Dorf in Devonshire Quartier bezogen. Hier sollte er eigentlich an einem Mammutwerk über die britische Nachkriegsliteratur schreiben. Stattdessen faulenzt er mit seinen neuen Bekannten, dem Major und dem Pfarrer. Kurz vor Fens Ankunft geschah zwar ein grausamer Mord, aber das ist längst geklärt und Schnee von gestern. Bis der alte Gobbo offenbart: der verhaftete Mörder kann es nicht gewesen sein. Läuft der Mörder noch frei herum? Es scheint so, denn schon gibt es einen weiteren grausamen Mord auf dem Pfarrfest.
Die Krimihandlung ist unterhaltsam, doch sehr langatmig und ausschweifend erzählt. Der Autor kann diesen Umstand zwar durch seinen ironischen (manchmal sogar selbstironischen) Ton ausgleichen, trotzdem hätte ich mir eine etwas straffere Erzählung gewünscht. Gerade das Fuchsjagd-Kapitel diente nur dem Klamauk und hatte keine inhaltliche Relevanz (dafür aber über 30 Seiten). Etwas schade war, dass es mir als Leserin nicht möglich war, den Fall mitzulösen. Der Autor enthält Informationen vor und zieht am Ende die Lösung überraschend aus dem Sack. Negativ ist auch die Frauenfeindlichkeit, alle Frauen werden sehr abwertend und teilweise auch diskriminierend dargestellt, während die Männer als verschroben, aber liebenswert daher kommen. Es gibt in diesem Buch (außer der Wirtin, die aber eigentlich nicht wirklich vorkommt), keine positive Frauenfigur.
An anderer Stelle habe ich mich etwas gewundert. Hat denn niemand im Verlag die Ausgabe vor der Neuveröffentlichung 2019 gelesen? Mehrfach fällt das N-Wort, was in dem Kontext nicht nötig ist und ohne Inhaltsverlust gegen ein heute gebräuchliches Wort ausgetauscht hätte werden können.
July 2, 2019
Not nearly as good or funny as the earlier books. It is much darker and contains a lot of unpleasant racist and misogynistic references. Fen is not his usual ebullient self and leaves most of the detecting to the actual policemen.
April 22, 2024
The Glimpses of the Moon was “Edmund Crispin”’s last novel, published a few decades after his previous one and only a year before his death. Unusually, it shows few signs of fatigue. The mystery plot may be a little sloppy and lacking in strong psychological motivation, but the characters are vividly drawn and the author feels fully engaged in the world he has created.
Crispin’s professor sleuth, Gervase Fen, has rented a cottage in Devon in order to work on a book he has been commissioned to write about modern British fiction. As is usual with Fen, however, his intellectual pursuits are inadequate to occupy his overactive mind. Instead, he has befriended a number of local eccentrics and is absorbed in unraveling a local mystery or two.
Readers of Crispin’s novels need to have a lively sense of the absurd, patience with non-PC points of view, and an appreciation for satire. All three traits of his work are on full display here. The book was published in 1977 but sounds more like a product of 1971. He vividly captures the flavor of the era, with hunting protesters, longhairs in hippie garb, an awkward embrace of the sexual revolution living alongside residual sexist stereotypes, and Church Fêtes dutifully supported long after their central purpose has been forgotten. This is not an author trapped in the past; he is a sharp observer and critic of the moment’s social absurdities. His one-phrase summations of contemporary authors are also hilariously on target.
With so much energetic nonsense on display, the reader can easily be distracted from the mystery, gruesome though it is, involving dismemberments, wandering human heads, and deaths far from immediate. When an elderly spinster fails to be shocked by the sight of a naked, mutilated male corpse, she reminds those who would coddle her that she was a nurse in the war—a reminder that people of Crispin’s generation had plenty of exposure to horrors and most learned to take them in stride without loss of humanity. One of the things I always enjoy about Crispin’s mysteries is that he never makes sudden death cute, and he always maintains a humane but firm moral center about crime.
The police investigators in the book are a bit less interesting, though I did savor an excruciating scene in which one inspector tortured the other via his excessive preoccupation with pipes and smoking tobacco. We’ve all been there.
The mystery in this case is so larded with freakish elements, however, that it never really coheres psychologically. Why a perpetrator would take the trouble to do various things is never fully explained, and how a perpetrator could know about certain plans of other characters in order to exploit them is left unaddressed. I would rate the book more strictly if the mystery were the point, but it so clearly is not that I prefer to focus where the author’s true interests lay. It was loads of fun to read.
Crispin’s professor sleuth, Gervase Fen, has rented a cottage in Devon in order to work on a book he has been commissioned to write about modern British fiction. As is usual with Fen, however, his intellectual pursuits are inadequate to occupy his overactive mind. Instead, he has befriended a number of local eccentrics and is absorbed in unraveling a local mystery or two.
Readers of Crispin’s novels need to have a lively sense of the absurd, patience with non-PC points of view, and an appreciation for satire. All three traits of his work are on full display here. The book was published in 1977 but sounds more like a product of 1971. He vividly captures the flavor of the era, with hunting protesters, longhairs in hippie garb, an awkward embrace of the sexual revolution living alongside residual sexist stereotypes, and Church Fêtes dutifully supported long after their central purpose has been forgotten. This is not an author trapped in the past; he is a sharp observer and critic of the moment’s social absurdities. His one-phrase summations of contemporary authors are also hilariously on target.
With so much energetic nonsense on display, the reader can easily be distracted from the mystery, gruesome though it is, involving dismemberments, wandering human heads, and deaths far from immediate. When an elderly spinster fails to be shocked by the sight of a naked, mutilated male corpse, she reminds those who would coddle her that she was a nurse in the war—a reminder that people of Crispin’s generation had plenty of exposure to horrors and most learned to take them in stride without loss of humanity. One of the things I always enjoy about Crispin’s mysteries is that he never makes sudden death cute, and he always maintains a humane but firm moral center about crime.
The police investigators in the book are a bit less interesting, though I did savor an excruciating scene in which one inspector tortured the other via his excessive preoccupation with pipes and smoking tobacco. We’ve all been there.
The mystery in this case is so larded with freakish elements, however, that it never really coheres psychologically. Why a perpetrator would take the trouble to do various things is never fully explained, and how a perpetrator could know about certain plans of other characters in order to exploit them is left unaddressed. I would rate the book more strictly if the mystery were the point, but it so clearly is not that I prefer to focus where the author’s true interests lay. It was loads of fun to read.
March 6, 2020
March 2020 reread: I had somehow forgotten how funny Crispin can be! Lots of chuckles while I was reading this.
---------------------------
August 2017 reread: While not Crispin's best mystery, the humor and eccentric characters make this a fun book to read. I think that I enjoyed Fen's literary references much more in this reread as I am more familiar with the authors mentioned than I was 25 years ago when I first read this.
---------------------------
August 2017 reread: While not Crispin's best mystery, the humor and eccentric characters make this a fun book to read. I think that I enjoyed Fen's literary references much more in this reread as I am more familiar with the authors mentioned than I was 25 years ago when I first read this.
June 7, 2018
This Fen installment was published 24 years after Beware of Trains. While the murder was more gruesome, even macabre than previous mysteries involving Fen, Crispin has lost none of his wit and laugh-out-loud, uproariously humorous descriptions. Add in the absurd, wacky characters and situations...Crispin has created another fun read. The following absurdities made me literally guffaw:
If you took the Rector from the top downwards, the first thing you saw was iron-grey hair thatching a high, noble forehead. Below this point, however, matters deteriorated abruptly. No doubt about it, the Rector's actual face was simian - so that the overall effect was as if Jekyll had got stuck half-way in the course of switching himself to Hyde...
His entry into the living-room shook the ancient floorboards and...on the Chesterfield the second of Fen's animal responsibilities, a marmalade tom-cat called Stripey, lay heavily asleep. Stripey had returned earlier that morning exhausted after one of his three-day forays among the district females, expeditions which he seemed to Fen to tackle less for pleasure than because of some vague, oppressive sense of social responsibility, like a repentant long-term convict volunteering for medical experimentation. He was archetypically male, at once coarse, bumptious and pathetic...Stripey slumbered on, resting his gonads so as to be fit for another public-spirited bout of propagation when darkness fell.
Farmer Tully bringing his cows home ...as the cavalcade came into view. At the head of it rode Clarence Tully's third cowman, whose duty it was to precede cow migrations on a bicycle; he was a jittery man whose nervous economy had been permanently affected he believed, by having to toil up slopes in front of a herd of animals with more stamina, and a better turn of speed for hill work, than himself.
If you took the Rector from the top downwards, the first thing you saw was iron-grey hair thatching a high, noble forehead. Below this point, however, matters deteriorated abruptly. No doubt about it, the Rector's actual face was simian - so that the overall effect was as if Jekyll had got stuck half-way in the course of switching himself to Hyde...
His entry into the living-room shook the ancient floorboards and...on the Chesterfield the second of Fen's animal responsibilities, a marmalade tom-cat called Stripey, lay heavily asleep. Stripey had returned earlier that morning exhausted after one of his three-day forays among the district females, expeditions which he seemed to Fen to tackle less for pleasure than because of some vague, oppressive sense of social responsibility, like a repentant long-term convict volunteering for medical experimentation. He was archetypically male, at once coarse, bumptious and pathetic...Stripey slumbered on, resting his gonads so as to be fit for another public-spirited bout of propagation when darkness fell.
Farmer Tully bringing his cows home ...as the cavalcade came into view. At the head of it rode Clarence Tully's third cowman, whose duty it was to precede cow migrations on a bicycle; he was a jittery man whose nervous economy had been permanently affected he believed, by having to toil up slopes in front of a herd of animals with more stamina, and a better turn of speed for hill work, than himself.
April 20, 2008
Edmund Crispin is the pen name of Bruce Montgomery, an organist and composer of film and more serious music. As a sideline he wrote mysteries. I have long been fanatically fond of his novels, and recently started re-reading "Glimpses of the Moon." I love these books for their gentle humor and fantastic approaches to staple mystery conventions like "the locked room." They are also extremely literate, with many references to Shakespeare and great poetry. These are among the hardest mysteries to figure out that I have ever read, and have in fact never been able to foresee the solutions. Instead, I read them for their style and humor. I also enjoy the many references to music, especially in "Swan Song," which is a locked room mystery involving a vain tenor. Strongly recommended for any mystery fans.
October 14, 2024
A head is seen floating down the river. The whole town thinks they know who it is, but the town drunk says he saw the supposed corpse after the supposed death. Gervase Fen gets on the case.
October 13, 2021
"Well, my dear fellow, if you say so. But who is the Botticelli murderer?"
"I don't know."
"But you must know by now, dear fellow," said the Major plaintively. "We're practically at the end of the book.".
A crime novel in which a character speculates that the solution should have been reached because it's almost the end of the book obviously is a crime novel that doesn't take itself too seriously.
But this only meets the expectations of anyone who has read any of Edmund Crispin's (aka Bruce Montgomery) other Gervase Fen crime novels. These are manic crime novels, with a Monty Python-like sensibility.
This one was first published in 1977, a year before the author's death, and I don't think he was at the top of his game when he wrote it. The side trips become a bit labored. Still, for me, after a spell of some fairly serious reading, turning to one of the Gervase Fen stories is like a light, satisfying dessert.
By my count, this one includes three murders, three missing body parts and two blackmailings. Crispin always likes to throw in a bizarre chase scene. The one in this book is actually two groups going in opposite directions brought to a standstill. The groups include a fox hunt, animal rights activists, a cattle run, a motorcycle club and frustrated police trying to prevent an escape.
It takes a long time to get sorted out.
"I don't know."
"But you must know by now, dear fellow," said the Major plaintively. "We're practically at the end of the book.".
A crime novel in which a character speculates that the solution should have been reached because it's almost the end of the book obviously is a crime novel that doesn't take itself too seriously.
But this only meets the expectations of anyone who has read any of Edmund Crispin's (aka Bruce Montgomery) other Gervase Fen crime novels. These are manic crime novels, with a Monty Python-like sensibility.
This one was first published in 1977, a year before the author's death, and I don't think he was at the top of his game when he wrote it. The side trips become a bit labored. Still, for me, after a spell of some fairly serious reading, turning to one of the Gervase Fen stories is like a light, satisfying dessert.
By my count, this one includes three murders, three missing body parts and two blackmailings. Crispin always likes to throw in a bizarre chase scene. The one in this book is actually two groups going in opposite directions brought to a standstill. The groups include a fox hunt, animal rights activists, a cattle run, a motorcycle club and frustrated police trying to prevent an escape.
It takes a long time to get sorted out.
May 16, 2016
Goodreads led me to select this book from the library shelf because one reviewer applauding works of Michael Gilbert said he was a fan of all Edmund Crispin books. I came away from the library with a couple Gilberts and one Crispin and found myself in hysterics within minutes of turning the pages of this book. I laughed out loud quite a bit during the reading of this wild tale, but admit that my stamina waned at times as the jokes went a bit far. The Rector in this Devon village never misses an opportunity for a zinger, for example: after being invited to the church fete, a stranger replies "I'm not religious, I'm afraid." The rector replied "If you're not religious, you do well to be afraid. However, we have no objection to taking money from the heathen..."
If you are up for heads being sawed off and getting swapped with pig's heads, you may enjoy this romp. There is a murderer at work, and it is not at all obvious in the middle of many mysterious events and possible suspects. The characters are unique and extreme. The police force is comical and it takes the wisdom of Professor Gervase Fen to cut through the flummery to see what is what. This is the 9th in a series but my first Gervase Fen. I will look for another when I am in need of a good laugh.
If you are up for heads being sawed off and getting swapped with pig's heads, you may enjoy this romp. There is a murderer at work, and it is not at all obvious in the middle of many mysterious events and possible suspects. The characters are unique and extreme. The police force is comical and it takes the wisdom of Professor Gervase Fen to cut through the flummery to see what is what. This is the 9th in a series but my first Gervase Fen. I will look for another when I am in need of a good laugh.
September 15, 2024
Twenty-four years after the last book, Crispin decided to revive his detective for a last outing in which Fen is holed up in a Devonshire village writing a book. The discovery of a decapitated human head in a bag is the beginning of a convoluted mystery which will baffle everyone… except Fen, of course!
To be frank, Crispin had lost his touch. His earlier subtly intelligent humour has become gross and obvious, and slapstick has taken the place of the clever plotting of yore. The book is close to twice as long as the earlier ones, meaning it drags and waffles. The sexism and racism that were of their time in the books from the ‘50s are seriously outdated in the ‘70s and therefore seem much less forgivable somehow, especially since he’s coarser than he was back then. The language reads as if Crispin is trying to be in tune with the modern era, and missing by miles. I abandoned it halfway through, and have decided to pretend it never existed so that I can go on loving the earlier books.
To be frank, Crispin had lost his touch. His earlier subtly intelligent humour has become gross and obvious, and slapstick has taken the place of the clever plotting of yore. The book is close to twice as long as the earlier ones, meaning it drags and waffles. The sexism and racism that were of their time in the books from the ‘50s are seriously outdated in the ‘70s and therefore seem much less forgivable somehow, especially since he’s coarser than he was back then. The language reads as if Crispin is trying to be in tune with the modern era, and missing by miles. I abandoned it halfway through, and have decided to pretend it never existed so that I can go on loving the earlier books.
Read
February 6, 20252.5 stars
Not enough of Gervase Fen in this one!
Not enough of Gervase Fen in this one!
May 5, 2012
The finale book by Crispin with his detective Fen, and a book where he let his hair down and created all sorts of fantastic events, as well as some characters (one resembling the author.)
In this mystery Fen stays mostly on the outside but does in fact, hold the answer to finding out the identity of a victim and murderer. A great way to end the series, but I would suggest to those coming to Crispin's work to not read this first. It is a last book, and whether Crispin knew of his death, it still felt like he was writing this as a way to send off his character in a fun way, letting the reader know that Fen was slightly tired of chasing mysteries and loved his work as a Professor more, and that while he still had it, he was enjoying life as well.
In this mystery Fen stays mostly on the outside but does in fact, hold the answer to finding out the identity of a victim and murderer. A great way to end the series, but I would suggest to those coming to Crispin's work to not read this first. It is a last book, and whether Crispin knew of his death, it still felt like he was writing this as a way to send off his character in a fun way, letting the reader know that Fen was slightly tired of chasing mysteries and loved his work as a Professor more, and that while he still had it, he was enjoying life as well.
March 22, 2024
Another of what I call this author;s silly books. I understand he had something to do with the Carry On films , and where those famous actors could get away with the silliness, I find it doesn't work for me in book form. Crispin also shows his low opinion of females in this story, and he also seems to be obsessed with sex. This is the last of his books in this series.
I enjoyed some of his detective stories and think it is a shame that he stopped writing those straight-forward mysteries.
I enjoyed some of his detective stories and think it is a shame that he stopped writing those straight-forward mysteries.
June 23, 2022
Why would you write a novel twice as long as every other book in the series, and have your series character make little more than a cameo appearance? This is nigh on unreadable as a Gervase Fen story. I read the first book in the series not that long ago, and the differences between that one and this one are staggering, and not in a good way.
May 14, 2021
Last Gervase Fen mystery written. Entertaining, light read. Humourous, the mystery plays a minor role to the story itself. Well-written.
December 31, 2018
This is the ninth book in a British mystery series written by Edmund Crispin (although the work was copyrighted by Bruce Montgomery, making me wonder what that's about). (The book says it is number nine in the series, but here at goodreads it's listed as number ten.) The sleuth in the series is Professor (of English literature at Oxford) Gervase Fen. It took me awhile to get "into it" but once I did I was solidly hooked. There's a quality to the dry, droll British humor and wit that is different from American comedy (in both writing and film, for that matter). Here the setting is the English countryside, and it's filled with eccentric, quirky, "out there" individuals. There are several extended crazy, ridiculous, wacko scenes that are hilarious (the most entertaining I've come across since "Freddie and Frederica"). On the cover the book is touted as being for fans of "the Golden Age of British Mystery" with its vintage "felony and mayhem" works featuring twisty, ingenious puzzles harking back to the likes of Agatha Christie and John Dickson Carr. A few additional matters struck me about the work. No one (of the policemen and detectives) working on the case actually "solves" it, including the sleuth of the series. In the end the culprit makes a confession and from that how the crime happened is explained. Professor Fen doesn't play as big of a role as I might have expected, other than thinking through the case (described as having too many clues to make sense of) and offering a few savvy suggestions that turn out to be helpful to the authorities. Glimpsing the moon does not figure prominently in the story, and why that became the title seems surprising (it might be a parlor game to decide upon a more appropriate name for the book). I did thoroughly enjoy reading the book and hope to experience more of this author's works.
June 23, 2020
This may be called "A comedy of murders in an English country setting". I find it difficult to put a finger on the genre for this book. There are murders in there, but the book isn't about them. The book combines P.G.Wodehouse with Dorothy Sayers with Thomas Hardy..a mix of the best and you get this wonderful colourful book. I enjoyed it thoroughly and laughed out loud of at various points of the book. Three characters are probably representations of the different types of characters you see in a rural setting and they all come to life in Crispin's able hands. Fen is very incidental to the book and has little part to play in the mystery itself but he becomes part of the colourful set of characters. Great fun!!
April 12, 2019
More uproarious in a Tom Sharpe way than clever mystery. Bonus points for mention of S. J. Perelman and colourful expressions like "scybalum" and "girt dawbakes." If you enjoy enlarging your vocabulary, literary allusions, breaks of the fourth wall and some grisliness in a cozy mystery you'll love this. Glorious bits of slapstick and social commentary situated in rural Devon.
September 25, 2019
I love Edmund Crispin's books. I don't think I had read this one before, Gervase Fen was rather detached in this one except for giving the detective the clue he needed to solve it. He was quite amusing in his pondering of the book he was writing on novelists. He wasn't terribly excited about it and not at all thrilled with some of the books and authors. His occasional comments from left field were hilarious.
This is the only writer I have read where I keep having to look up words. I read this on my nook and many of the words were NOT in the included dictionary. But the references to classical literature were quite interesting.
There has been a murder in the district before Fen comes there to work on a book he is under contract to write about 20th century novelists. Then while he is in residence, a similar murder occurs in which he has a hand as an unsuspecting dupe. When he complains of the butcher's brawn, Mrs Clotworthy gives him her recipe for brawn and leaves a pig's head for him on her porch. He picks it up and ends up carrying it with him most of the day, but when he comes to check - it's not a pig's head, but a man's. In fact, it's probably the head of the man found dead in the tent at the church fete. The Rector is a hoot, he is so unexpected. The Major also adds his two bits to the entertainment as well as Thouless who is unhappily composing music for monster movies. Then, a journalist is added into the mix to hang around and provide some more diversion.
This is the only writer I have read where I keep having to look up words. I read this on my nook and many of the words were NOT in the included dictionary. But the references to classical literature were quite interesting.
There has been a murder in the district before Fen comes there to work on a book he is under contract to write about 20th century novelists. Then while he is in residence, a similar murder occurs in which he has a hand as an unsuspecting dupe. When he complains of the butcher's brawn, Mrs Clotworthy gives him her recipe for brawn and leaves a pig's head for him on her porch. He picks it up and ends up carrying it with him most of the day, but when he comes to check - it's not a pig's head, but a man's. In fact, it's probably the head of the man found dead in the tent at the church fete. The Rector is a hoot, he is so unexpected. The Major also adds his two bits to the entertainment as well as Thouless who is unhappily composing music for monster movies. Then, a journalist is added into the mix to hang around and provide some more diversion.
February 8, 2013
I received a copy of The Glimpses of the Moon from Bloomsbury Reader via Netgalley.
I chose this book because I had just read the first Gervase Fen mystery "The Case of the Gilded Fly" and thought Fen would be an interesting detective to follow. I realized that this book was somewhat later in the series, but I didn't realize that it was written in the 1970s. While there were many contemporary references in the first book -- most of which I didn't catch because, of course, I wasn't born when it was written -- the references here were to subjects I could understand such as Perry Mason and the pro-animal/anti-hunting movement.
Even though the death was discussed by the characters from the first page, the facts of the case do not come out for quite a while. And Professor Fen here is surrounded by a cast of the most hilarious characters ever found in a mystery novel. The Rector, the Major, the Composer and all the townspeople are so funny that at times the story becomes a farce. Although the situation comedy is so beautifully described that you can almost see it happening in front of you, it really plays no role in solving the crime.
So as a lovely piece of humorous fiction, this book is great; as a detective novel, not so much.
I chose this book because I had just read the first Gervase Fen mystery "The Case of the Gilded Fly" and thought Fen would be an interesting detective to follow. I realized that this book was somewhat later in the series, but I didn't realize that it was written in the 1970s. While there were many contemporary references in the first book -- most of which I didn't catch because, of course, I wasn't born when it was written -- the references here were to subjects I could understand such as Perry Mason and the pro-animal/anti-hunting movement.
Even though the death was discussed by the characters from the first page, the facts of the case do not come out for quite a while. And Professor Fen here is surrounded by a cast of the most hilarious characters ever found in a mystery novel. The Rector, the Major, the Composer and all the townspeople are so funny that at times the story becomes a farce. Although the situation comedy is so beautifully described that you can almost see it happening in front of you, it really plays no role in solving the crime.
So as a lovely piece of humorous fiction, this book is great; as a detective novel, not so much.
September 20, 2025
Death and decapitation seem to go hand in hand in the Devon village of Aller. When the first victim's head is sent floating down the river, the village's rural calm is shattered. Soon the corpses are multiplying and the entire community is involved in the murder hunt. While the rector, the major, the police and a journalist, desperate for the scoop of the century, chase false trails, it is left to Gervase Fen, Oxford don and amateur criminologist, to uncover the sordid truth.
This is the 10th book in the Gervase Fen mystery series, and is full of Crispin's dry sense of humour. It has plenty of twists and turns in the plot to keep you guessing right till the end.
Another enjoyable classic mystery, that is well plotted and written.
If you like the review and would like to read reviews on other books I have read, visit my blog at www.finalchapterreadersgroup.wordpres... like, comment and follow.
I voluntarily reviewed an Advance Reader Copy of this book. Published by Bloomsbury Reader and download via NetGalley.
This is the 10th book in the Gervase Fen mystery series, and is full of Crispin's dry sense of humour. It has plenty of twists and turns in the plot to keep you guessing right till the end.
Another enjoyable classic mystery, that is well plotted and written.
If you like the review and would like to read reviews on other books I have read, visit my blog at www.finalchapterreadersgroup.wordpres... like, comment and follow.
I voluntarily reviewed an Advance Reader Copy of this book. Published by Bloomsbury Reader and download via NetGalley.
June 27, 2025
Oh what a shame. Somewhere in the multi-decade gap between this and his other books Crispin lost his touch, and how.
Barring a few flickers of the old Fen charm, this was crude and vulgar both in its construction and its many failed attempts at wit. A few small representative samples of the latter:
"A thick black cloud jetted from the box's interior, totally smothering the man from Sweb's frontal aspect from the tip of his hat to halfway down his trousers, so that it appeared as if the makeup artist from The Black and White Minstrel Show had gone berserk or was protesting against racism, or (since the two things are not dissimilar) both."
"The hunt saboteuse wobbled her breasts under the t-shirt to show that they were un-brassiered, a token of liberation which had little effect, since her torso was almost entirely concealed by long shanks of tangled, parti-coloured hair. "It's Ms., if you don't mind," she said."
"When the Bale sisters were ushered into the office, Widger perceived that their names were the wrong way round: Tatty was large-bosomed but quite smartly dressed, Titty was flat-chested but untidy."
"My people are mostly dolts, I'm afraid," said Dermot McCartney [the only Black character in the book]. "Dolts or barbarians or both. They believe things which are either nonsensical or manifestly untrue, such as that they are collectively capable of managing their own affairs, and that black is beautiful, and that jazz is an art form."
It always feels like a cheat when authors portray leftists, feminists, people who care about the well-being of their fellow-man, etc, as humourless and tiresome, because then when we complain about the portrayal, lo, we have confirmed that we are indeed humourless and tiresome. Only here's the thing: in addition to being ideologically troubling, this book was - bad. The mystery was poorly thought-out and unfair. The dialogue was laboured. The jokes weren't funny. The characters were one-dimensional. To paraphrase Community, "I can excuse racism, but I draw the line at bad writing."*
I was surprised to learn that Edmund Crispin was only in his mid fifties when he wrote this, because I'm afraid I pictured an old, old man pausing at his typewriter to gum his mashed potatoes or shake his stick out the window at some youths on roller-skates. However, he died the following year, so based on the above quotes and various others like them I can only surmise that the emotional and intellectual strain of witnessing (even at a safe distance) the civil rights movement, women's lib, and/or Stonewall, was enough to finish him off.
* This is a joke. I can't excuse racism. I can occasionally be persuaded to look the other way at a bit of sexism if the writing is good enough.
Barring a few flickers of the old Fen charm, this was crude and vulgar both in its construction and its many failed attempts at wit. A few small representative samples of the latter:
"A thick black cloud jetted from the box's interior, totally smothering the man from Sweb's frontal aspect from the tip of his hat to halfway down his trousers, so that it appeared as if the makeup artist from The Black and White Minstrel Show had gone berserk or was protesting against racism, or (since the two things are not dissimilar) both."
"The hunt saboteuse wobbled her breasts under the t-shirt to show that they were un-brassiered, a token of liberation which had little effect, since her torso was almost entirely concealed by long shanks of tangled, parti-coloured hair. "It's Ms., if you don't mind," she said."
"When the Bale sisters were ushered into the office, Widger perceived that their names were the wrong way round: Tatty was large-bosomed but quite smartly dressed, Titty was flat-chested but untidy."
"My people are mostly dolts, I'm afraid," said Dermot McCartney [the only Black character in the book]. "Dolts or barbarians or both. They believe things which are either nonsensical or manifestly untrue, such as that they are collectively capable of managing their own affairs, and that black is beautiful, and that jazz is an art form."
It always feels like a cheat when authors portray leftists, feminists, people who care about the well-being of their fellow-man, etc, as humourless and tiresome, because then when we complain about the portrayal, lo, we have confirmed that we are indeed humourless and tiresome. Only here's the thing: in addition to being ideologically troubling, this book was - bad. The mystery was poorly thought-out and unfair. The dialogue was laboured. The jokes weren't funny. The characters were one-dimensional. To paraphrase Community, "I can excuse racism, but I draw the line at bad writing."*
I was surprised to learn that Edmund Crispin was only in his mid fifties when he wrote this, because I'm afraid I pictured an old, old man pausing at his typewriter to gum his mashed potatoes or shake his stick out the window at some youths on roller-skates. However, he died the following year, so based on the above quotes and various others like them I can only surmise that the emotional and intellectual strain of witnessing (even at a safe distance) the civil rights movement, women's lib, and/or Stonewall, was enough to finish him off.
* This is a joke. I can't excuse racism. I can occasionally be persuaded to look the other way at a bit of sexism if the writing is good enough.
October 24, 2023
When Cripsin (aka Robert Bruce Montgomery) is good, he's very good. But "Glimpses" is not good. It is overinflated, with reams of backstory and exposition lurking at every turn. The only mystery here is how it's gotten so many "Good" ratings here at Goodreads.
Don't get me wrong. I love the Gervase Fen character. An Oxford don- when he's not running around the countryside, bothering suspects and looking for clues- Mr. Fen is a brilliant creation: brilliant, silly, irascible, and adventurous, he's a hazard to anyone on foot or in a moving vehicle, given his reckless manner behind the wheel of his backfiring sports car. And books like "The Moving Toyshop" are some of the best Brit mysteries I've ever read.
But after one has experienced the first few Fen novels, it's a real bummer to come across "The Glimpses of the Moon," the last of Crispin's novels. After a hiatus of twenty-six years, Mr. Crispin dusted off the Fen character for one final fling. And though there's humor aplenty, with scads of literary references and nods to British culture, there's a distinctive lack of Fen. It's as if Crispin has tired of the Oxford professor, but wants to give the fellow one more chance to sleuth. The trouble is, Fen is shoved to the background, at least for the first half of the novel, while several folks one doesn't care about run around in officious manner, trying to figure out who is maiming and beheading the locals.
Though the nature of the crimes is fascinating, in a grisly sort of way, the main action in the tale doesn't really kick into gear until one is two-thirds of the way along- a tough slog, considering this is a 363-page book.
In the end, if you're looking for a decent introduction to the adventures of Gervase Fen, try "The Moving Toyshop," "Holy Disorders," or "Buried for Pleasure." But if you have a lot of reading time to waste, the bloated "Glimpses" will be right up your alley.
Don't get me wrong. I love the Gervase Fen character. An Oxford don- when he's not running around the countryside, bothering suspects and looking for clues- Mr. Fen is a brilliant creation: brilliant, silly, irascible, and adventurous, he's a hazard to anyone on foot or in a moving vehicle, given his reckless manner behind the wheel of his backfiring sports car. And books like "The Moving Toyshop" are some of the best Brit mysteries I've ever read.
But after one has experienced the first few Fen novels, it's a real bummer to come across "The Glimpses of the Moon," the last of Crispin's novels. After a hiatus of twenty-six years, Mr. Crispin dusted off the Fen character for one final fling. And though there's humor aplenty, with scads of literary references and nods to British culture, there's a distinctive lack of Fen. It's as if Crispin has tired of the Oxford professor, but wants to give the fellow one more chance to sleuth. The trouble is, Fen is shoved to the background, at least for the first half of the novel, while several folks one doesn't care about run around in officious manner, trying to figure out who is maiming and beheading the locals.
Though the nature of the crimes is fascinating, in a grisly sort of way, the main action in the tale doesn't really kick into gear until one is two-thirds of the way along- a tough slog, considering this is a 363-page book.
In the end, if you're looking for a decent introduction to the adventures of Gervase Fen, try "The Moving Toyshop," "Holy Disorders," or "Buried for Pleasure." But if you have a lot of reading time to waste, the bloated "Glimpses" will be right up your alley.
April 11, 2024
There are over 25 years before the publication of The Long Divorce (the previous Fen mystery) in 1951 and this in 1977 and it sadly shows. I have always enjoyed the series featuring Oxford don, Gervase Fen, but, having read this, I feel that Edmund Crispin, pen name of Robert Bruce Montgomery, should have stopped with the previous mystery. He died in 1978 so perhaps I must forgive him this aberration.
The author, a writer and a musician, has one of his characters in this mystery writing bad music for films. This is ironic as Crispin himself wrote film scores for the Carry On films and this book has something of the smuttiness of those days, reminding me of how - although only a child in the Seventies - obvious humour was in that period. There is also a Major who spends much of the book chanting advertising jingles. I preferred Fen when he used to quote from Alice in Wonderland, but there we are.
We are in the Devon village of Aller where Fen, for a bizarre reason, is carrying around a pigs head for much of the book. He is on sabbatical in order to write a book about the modern British novel, but mostly he becomes embroiled in the story of a local murder which seems to have been poorly investigated and the wrong man arrested. The author - somewhat like an elderly Agatha Christie - seems to have used this novel to have a bit of a moan. If you are thinking of trying a Gervase Fen mystery, do yourself a favour and go back to one of the delightful early ones and avoid this later addition. It would be a shame to start here - this is for completists only.
The author, a writer and a musician, has one of his characters in this mystery writing bad music for films. This is ironic as Crispin himself wrote film scores for the Carry On films and this book has something of the smuttiness of those days, reminding me of how - although only a child in the Seventies - obvious humour was in that period. There is also a Major who spends much of the book chanting advertising jingles. I preferred Fen when he used to quote from Alice in Wonderland, but there we are.
We are in the Devon village of Aller where Fen, for a bizarre reason, is carrying around a pigs head for much of the book. He is on sabbatical in order to write a book about the modern British novel, but mostly he becomes embroiled in the story of a local murder which seems to have been poorly investigated and the wrong man arrested. The author - somewhat like an elderly Agatha Christie - seems to have used this novel to have a bit of a moan. If you are thinking of trying a Gervase Fen mystery, do yourself a favour and go back to one of the delightful early ones and avoid this later addition. It would be a shame to start here - this is for completists only.
November 14, 2024
I picked up Edmund Crispin after reading Val McDermid's glowing review of his writing. I enjoyed my first two reads, but this one is dreadful. I'm so glad I read the reviews and discovered this particular volume was written many years after his other novels, and isn't representative of his usual standard.
To call this a "Gervase Fen Mystery" is grossly misleading. Fen is staying in the village where the murders take place, but after a few initial interviews, he goes back to his cottage and reads his books. It's left to two rather boring detectives to conduct the investigation.
Finally, Fen gives one of the detectives a big clue (which is kept secret from the reader!) and it seems the 'big reveal' can't be far away. But no, we're treated to an interminable diversion about hunt saboteurs and exploding electricity pylons, which has nothing to do with the murders. I expect it was supposed to be funny in a 'Carry On' kind of way, but what might have worked on screen, fell flat in print.
Part of the satisfaction of crime novels is that aha! moment when you realise the novelist gave you all the clues, but so cunningly that you missed them. I didn't get that in this novel, because Fen's explanation mentioned a brother I didn't even know existed. But maybe that's because I skimmed so many of the slapstick portions of the book.
To call this a "Gervase Fen Mystery" is grossly misleading. Fen is staying in the village where the murders take place, but after a few initial interviews, he goes back to his cottage and reads his books. It's left to two rather boring detectives to conduct the investigation.
Finally, Fen gives one of the detectives a big clue (which is kept secret from the reader!) and it seems the 'big reveal' can't be far away. But no, we're treated to an interminable diversion about hunt saboteurs and exploding electricity pylons, which has nothing to do with the murders. I expect it was supposed to be funny in a 'Carry On' kind of way, but what might have worked on screen, fell flat in print.
Part of the satisfaction of crime novels is that aha! moment when you realise the novelist gave you all the clues, but so cunningly that you missed them. I didn't get that in this novel, because Fen's explanation mentioned a brother I didn't even know existed. But maybe that's because I skimmed so many of the slapstick portions of the book.
August 27, 2023
Crispin goes full Cold Comfort Farm with this no-holds-barred bucolic mystery. The plot is so complicated that it gets lost in the local color, but never mind; this is Crispin at his most hilarious. Idiotic swains, retired ad-singing Majors, constables who cannot stop talking about the penal code, sex-crazed German descendants of Nazi concentration-camp guards, a very strange pathologist who does unholy experiments in an isolated house deep in the countryside, and a Rector whose eccentricities only become more pronounced as the book goes on. . . and on -- these are only some of characters Crispin plays with. Don't get me started on the fox hunters, anti-fox-hunters, and motorcycle gangs. The title of the book comes from Hamlet by way of Edith Wharton, but I think the reference is to the return (of Hamlet's ghost), in very un-Shakespearean bathetic terms, of various pieces of the victims. Any way, don't read this if you are looking for a cosy mystery, or even a locked-room puzzle. This book is just a comic sendup masquerading as a murder mystery.
May 1, 2024
The last full length mystery in an excellent series - 4.5*
This is Gervase Fen at his very best - a wonderful mix of irascibility and enthusiasm with a deliciously sharp wit. Edmund Crispin was such a wordsmith and a remarkable observer of human nature.
This last Gervase Fen story was written more than 20 years after the previous one and Crispin has allowed himself to move fully with the times. His writing was always contemporary to the time in which he was writing and this is no exception. This story is set in the England of my childhood and it was wonderfully nostalgic.
Crispin creates the most wonderful characters. They are gentle parodies of real life as indeed the best of fiction characters often are. I particularly enjoyed the Major in this one.
I am ging to miss Gervase Fen and will definitely come back to him again.
I listened to the audiobook and very much appreciated the narration my Paul Panting. He made me laugh out loud several times which is no mean feat whilst running a 5K!
I heartily recommend this series to one and all.
This is Gervase Fen at his very best - a wonderful mix of irascibility and enthusiasm with a deliciously sharp wit. Edmund Crispin was such a wordsmith and a remarkable observer of human nature.
This last Gervase Fen story was written more than 20 years after the previous one and Crispin has allowed himself to move fully with the times. His writing was always contemporary to the time in which he was writing and this is no exception. This story is set in the England of my childhood and it was wonderfully nostalgic.
Crispin creates the most wonderful characters. They are gentle parodies of real life as indeed the best of fiction characters often are. I particularly enjoyed the Major in this one.
I am ging to miss Gervase Fen and will definitely come back to him again.
I listened to the audiobook and very much appreciated the narration my Paul Panting. He made me laugh out loud several times which is no mean feat whilst running a 5K!
I heartily recommend this series to one and all.
May 3, 2025
This book was published in 1977 and was the last of the Gervase Fenn mysteries and I cannot believe that I had never discovered this series of mysteries when I was in my salad days. Suffice it to say, that I really adored this witty, literate mystery, that comes off as if Agatha Christie and Monty Python and P.G. Wodehouse collaborated on the characters and plot. I found myself laughing out loud so many times and I could just see this as a movie ala "It's A Mad, Mad, Mad World" stuffed with as many British, Irish and Welsh comedians as they could hire.
Professor Gervase Fenn is in Devon writing his magnum opus on "the modern novel" but keeps getting derailed by his neighbor, the retired Major, the local vicar (and his practical jokes), the spectacular failures of the local electrical board, fox hunters and anti fox hunters, a local moto-cross and a narcoleptic horse. Add in a couple of especially grisly murders with the whole village unwittingly playing hide the victim's head during the village fete and I couldn't stop laughing.
Professor Gervase Fenn is in Devon writing his magnum opus on "the modern novel" but keeps getting derailed by his neighbor, the retired Major, the local vicar (and his practical jokes), the spectacular failures of the local electrical board, fox hunters and anti fox hunters, a local moto-cross and a narcoleptic horse. Add in a couple of especially grisly murders with the whole village unwittingly playing hide the victim's head during the village fete and I couldn't stop laughing.
March 31, 2018
The word that comes to mind about this one is 'droll'. Crispin's writing is very droll--amusing, sometimes producing an audible guffaw, but no more. The two English villages in this mystery (Burraford and Glazebridge) are veritable microcosms of British eccentricity; all the residents have at least one screw loose. The only sane person is a visitor, Oxford professor Gervase Fen, who finds himself in the middle of a trio of unsolved murders (the police are rather dim) and proceeds to solve them himself. It all goes on a bit too long, and the rationale behind the murders is a bit far-fetched, but it is fun. (At the two-thirds point, one character asks Fen who the murderer is. "I don't know," Fen replied. "But you must know by now, my dear fellow. We're practically at the end of the book!")
Displaying 1 - 30 of 104 reviews