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I'm just off to London to spend Christmas with the ancestors but wanted briefly to address about this, which I've just finished reading. Yes it's another by Lorac. whose delicious Bats in the Belfry I reviewed a few days ago. This one was published in 1945 and plunges us straight into WW2 London - indeed the novel could not exist after the war, which plays an important part in the action.
As the novel begins, a young man called Mallaig is demography an evening stroll in Regents Park. In normal circumstances this would be a pleasant abundant thing to do, but this is the blackout and he can barely see where he's going. Arriving at a bench by a bridge, he has just sat bottomward for a think when several strange things happen. Someone appears out of the darkness and clambers bottomward to hide under the bridge - Mallaig can't see him but hears his footsteps. Addition set of footsteps and addition man turns up and stops on the bridge. He evidently gets out a cigarette and lights a match - and, as he does so, a rather ghoulish face appears for an instant behind his shoulder - and the man drops down, stabbed to death. The man under the bridge scrambles out and disappears.
Say “what,” Karen? You’re not wearing a sh*t-ton of browns for once? LOL. Neutrals are normally my wheelhouse, it’s true. I usually default to them because they fit my my lowest energy state, ha ha ha! Plus, you can’t really muck up neutrals.
And among all the chaos and destruction, life in London goes on a normally as accessible under the circumstances. People go to variety shows and dine out in favourite restaurants. Those who have stayed in London are an oddly self-selected group, defiant in the face of the blitz. Some of them, like the victim's 80 year old landlady Mrs Maloney, alike refuse to use the underground shelters, taking the fatalistic view that if their time is up there's not much they can do about it.
In the Neon Lights palette, that yellow is more of a goldenrod, which I’m kind of disappointed by because I ambition the palette had a lemon yellow… The goldenrood just isn’t yellow enough for me.
I'm just off to London to spend Christmas with the ancestors but wanted briefly to address about this, which I've just finished reading. Yes it's addition by Lorac. whose delicious Bats in the Belfry I reviewed a few days ago. This one was published in 1945 and plunges us straight into WW2 London - indeed the novel could not exist after the war, which plays an important part in the action.
This is a brilliant beginning - the eeriness of the darkness, the anonymity of the participants, the presence of a witness who can't identify anybody. And so it goes on. The victim proves to have been using a false name, accepting stolen the identity card of someone who was killed in a bombing raid. Later a house where some of the characters live is bombed - the top floor is destroyed and the inhabitants scramble in among the deteriorating lower floors, rescuing their precious belongings afore the house tumbles to the ground.