The Quiche of Death

Agatha goes here... Agatha goes there...

Agatha goes absolutely nowhere. Bouncing from one to another of a series of forgettable characters, from the Cotswolds to London, there and back again... a Habit Story. Not until the seventy-five percent marker do we encounter anything resembling an endearing, memorable character in the form of a small tabby. Yes there is some trifle of a plot revolving — hardly a spoiler this, given the title and genre — around a murder. But I just could not summon the ability to care. Perhaps it's the bland, clotted cream world in which Agatha finds herself, but it seemed to me more a picaresque, badly-paced series of events than anything whole and structured, something providing a unity. Maybe Aristotle was onto something. This series seems popular so perhaps I'll give it month or so and try another one, hoping that the author is slow in starting. Alas, things do not bode well for Ms. Raisin.