Is it possible that a single woman, even with the assistance of well-placed collaborators, can overcome the latent violence, disorder, tribalism, and corruption, of a city destroyed by civil war. This is the ambition of Cambara, a Somali ex-patriot, who has returned to Mogadiscio. She wants to reclaim her family property from a minor warlord, plus she wants to stage a play based on a folk tale. Overall she wants to contribute to building a new peace in war-torn Somalia. For this to happen everything must fall into place without a hitch, and so it does. The warlord is distracted by battle in other parts of the country. She finds allies who can guide her and help her with the production of her play. She seems to be immune to any of the violence which surrounds her island of calm and peace. It seems to good to be true, but this is the way Farrah presents his story. Conflict is all in anticipation and all prevented or avoided.
What saves this novel, indeed what lifts the story onto a plain at the highest level, is Farrah's restrained style of storytelling. He seems to have a grasp of what it would be like to encounter a failed state such as Somalia, a failed city such as Mogadiscio, and he draws us into it with patience and subtlety. We live with Cambara the frustration of stepping into a world where she is forced to wear a "body-tent" just to move safely about the streets. We watch the way that child soldiers casually accept the dangers of this environment. Farrah convinces show more us that this is a place where kindness has the potential to overcome all manner of adversity. show less

If you are looking for a typical whodunit this is not for you. Solving the puzzle is only a mechanism for allowing Perry to examine the primary theme of the story, betrayal. It shows up in all of the deaths as a justification for the perpetrators' actions. It is even, indirectly, a topic in the larger issue of English colonization and imperialism in central Africa. The first murder is motivated by an attempt to silence and discredit a critic of the greed of a secret cabal of financial backers of Cecil Rhodes' military exploits. Arthur Desmond, Pitt's childhood benefactor denounces the aristocratic "Inner Circle" for their betrayal of the ideals of the earlier generation of explorers, men such as Livingstone and Stanley. But he, himself, is seen by the Inner Circle as a betrayer to his class. So he is murdered. This sets the whole chain of events in motion, with the final murder taking place, in an unusual twist, on the last pages of the book. There is no lack of intrigue nor of historical detail in this novel. Highly recommended for anyone interested in the broad scope of British involvement in Africa, and a good mystery as well.

I was drawn in by the criminal, The Watchmaker, and all the horological tidbits. I did not like the plot which seemed far too contrived, though clever. I counted four levels of intrigue, making for an equal number of twists in the plot. It was very much plot driven with little development of character. I think if you have been following these characters through previous novels there would be enough here to keep you engaged.

Only useful if you are using it for personal devotions. All pronouns refer to 1st person, never community. There are a number of incorrect references to scripture, not surprising because there must be thousands of Psalm texts quoted.

Maybe it's just me, but reading this finale of the Niccolo series felt more like a duty done than a pleasure. I got the feeling that Dunnett had too much left to unravel from her previous plot lines and too much history to try to work into her narrative. The result is a story which cannot stand on its own merit. It is bloated and preoccupied with integrating the geneology of Scottish nobility. There is none of the intriguing plots and vital characters which gave depth to the first two novels of the series.
I kept reading because I wanted to like this book - and because I wanted the relief of knowing what Dunnett was trying to accomplish with this series. An accomplishment - that's what I feel reading this novel comes down to.

Early Macdonald, so not his best. The plot moves along nicely but there is little tension, just a basic whodunit (and why) puzzle. The action concludes with a rather long-winded confession by the culprit followed by a flurry of shooting which neatly kills off all the bad guys - or girls, in this case.
What saves the novel is Macdonald's creative and startling turn of phrase, often at the end of a chapter. He sets the standard for apt metaphor and surprising similes.

Rather self-indulgent story. Sayers obviously loved Oxford and the scholastic life. Lots of local references and untranslated 'bon mots'. Readers who do not share her passions are in for a slow read. The book has more to do with the heart versus head tension of the heroine, Harriet, than with any detective work. Again, unless you already know and care about the characters involved this makes for a long, slow slog.

Howatch examines the dynamics within the family. Ostensibly, the de Salises have all they could ever need. The fall of the family happens with Patrick

Excellent use of episodic technique provides a complete picture of Ned, the career spy. Le Carre is more concerned with the development of character than any suspense. Both Smiley and Ned are reflective in their retirement about the purpose of their profession. Is it worthwhile? Is it soul-destroying? Why is it so permanent in human society?
This novel is a good basis for reflection on all spy fiction.
It is an excellent novel. On a par with most of Graham Greene.

Excellent Stories

What I like about the Monk series is that Monk does not play a dominant role. In this novel it is Hester Latterly, nurse, who is the lead character. The same was true for the only other book I've read in this series, Sins of the Wolf.
Similarly, the puzzle, though crucial to the story, does not overwhelm other themes. There is good development of the triangle relationship between Monk, Latterly, and Sir Oliver Rathbone the solicitor. Again it is Hester who sits at the centre of the tension, maintaining her independence, yet drawn to both of the men.
As for puzzle: the story begins with the discovery of two men beaten and lying in an alley in a rough section of London, one dead, the other barely alive. They are father and son, Leighton and Rhys Duff. How they came to this state leads the reader, and the respectable, middle-class characters, into the seediest, poorest parts of Victorian London. Monk discovers that the murder is linked to the rape and violent beating of a number of "amateur" prostitutes in Seven Dials, another slum of the city. The truth of the murder is revealed only in the final few paragraphs.
Along the way Perry provides an excellent examination of the historical setting, the desperate plight of the poor women driven to prostitution for survival. She also opens the curtain on a major part of Monk's past, gradually revealing the life hidden by his amnesia.
The Silent Cry is above average as both a detective story and an historical novel.