Although the plot of this book was pretty far-fetched (as most plots based on the theme of ancestral revenge tend to be), and I found the genealogist hero somewhat pitiful as heroes go, I gave this four stars for two interrelated reasons. First of all, unlike most novels with a genealogy theme, this one actually described the hero doing real historical research, and his research skills were key to solving the mystery and saving the day. How could any librarian and genealogist not swoon over that? The other reason is the pure pleasure of fantasy fulfillment: the genealogist hero is given free access to whatever research facilities he needs, day or night--they keep the National Archives open specially for him! (I'm willing to swallow improbability when it feeds into my fantasies.)
That said, there were a number of flaws, many of which could have been prevented by more careful editing. For one thing, the only surviving member of the family of the man wrongly accused of murder, Eke Fairbairn, is his sister, who married a Chesterton--yet when the police search for descendants of this family they come up with a John Fairbairn, not Chesterton...? In addition, Eke's mother was apparently 14 at the birth of her first child, though I suppose that's conceivable (sorry, couldn't resist)--but it is unusual, and doesn't seem to serve any purpose in the story except to distract me, at least, from the plot. More serious--the police have to race all over town trying to find information about Karl Hogg, the suspected killer--who had supplied evidence as a witness earlier in the book. I'm no expert on police procedure, but surely they take down the addresses and phone numbers of witnesses? And finally, one more quibble: when we first meet Nigel Barnes, our genealogist, is in the cemetery specifically to do research for a client. He has failed to bring the necessary materials with which to make an impression of the tombstone inscription, or a spray bottle of water, which most genealogists would take along, but he DOES happen to have a tin of shaving cream (which destroys the stone) and a squeegee? This seems odd in someone who is repeatedly shown to value and respect historical artifacts....Okay, I know I sound perilously close to fanatically pedantic.
Still and all, it was an enjoyable melding of past and present. I'll go look for the next one.