The White Priory Murders: A Mystery for Christmas

  ‘'H.M.'s room, spacious in decayed finery, is in the most ancient part of the damp old rabbit-warren, once a part of Whitehall Palace: it looks down over a bleak strip of garden, the Victoria Embankment, and the river. A smoky blue twilight - the frost twilight of Christmas week - blurred the window now. Bennett could see reflections from the lamps along the parapet of the Embankment; he could hear the window rattle to the pelting hooting of buses, and the stir of the fire under the battered white-marble mantelpiece.''
A Hollywood starlet, who has been desperately trying to convince Britain that she can actually act, is found murdered in a pavilion surrounded by the traces of a heavy December. With absolutely zero evidence, James Bennett and Sir Henry Merrivale will try to find the culprit of an impossible crime.
This mystery is the epitome of the tradition of the Christmas Murder mystery. The imposing setting, dark and mysterious, the enigmatic victim, the cast of characters, the sympathetic amateur sleuth, the snow, the howling wind, the spectres in the corridors. The atmosphere is superb, and the story is nothing short of remarkable.
BUT. The dialogue is insufferable. Good Lord, who speaks with a dozen ‘'oh ah''s every two sentences? With the bright exception of Bennett, the interactions are atrocious, Kate and Louise's exclamations are absurdly dramatic, there is too much ‘'show, not tell'' and Sir Henry is simply NOT amusing.
If you can distance yourselves from the dialogue, you'll enjoy this Christmas mystery immensely. Unfortunately, I did not.