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Blue Christmas by Emma Jameson - #6 of the Lord and Lady Hetheridge Series

In spite of everything I say below, I have thoroughly enjoyed this series (six so far) of murder mysteries. There is nothing pretentious about them. They are well plotted, and the attention to detail is pretty accurate - except when it isn't. American terminology can be found, but that's the prime market, so Brits can turn up their noses but still enjoy the good bits. It's a win-win.

While not egregious, such faux pas as the persistent misspelling of “whisky” really grate. “Whisky” = Scotch whisky; “Whiskey” = Irish whiskey or bourbon. We all know that Tony Hetheridge does not drink whiskey. 

I also object to paper being referred to as "stationary." (There's a paper aeroplane joke there somewhere.)

One wonders what editors do for their money.

Briefly, Tony Hetheridge (Anthony Hetheridge, ninth Baron of Wellegrave) is a chief inspector assigned to Scotland Yard's "toff squad," a unit that handles the crimes of the upper class and aristocracy. In its PC wisdom, the Yard has paired him with an English Indian (Paul Bahr) and a brash East End beauty (Kate Wakefield). 

Given the title of the series, it is no spoiler to say that Lord Hetheridge succumbs to East End charm, but it takes several volumes to do it. Their romance is possibly the most irritating thing about the books, as the plots are good. Indeed, an exceptionally good villain appears in several volumes.

My chief whinge is the same as I have made before. 

Kate – and other professional females in fiction and in film – never seem to escape the damsel in distress syndrome. They want to be all independent, smart and in control, but – without fail – will go downstairs in the dark rather than call 911 (or, 999, for Kate). While restricted by fear in this volume, Kate is still prone to going into dangerous situations without backup or alerting her partner.

Is this where women’s lib has led? 

In every book, at least once, Kate reverts to being a dumb blonde. It’s not fair on readers looking for murder with charm but still with veracity, and it is unfair on women.

Is Kate not ready to play with the boys? She can’t have it both ways.

In Blue Christmas there is a BIG SECRET that was guessed by this 72-year-old-male at the very first clue. The parade of subsequent clues became simply irritating. It is hard to believe that Kate could have been that clueless – or Tony, for that matter. This is yet another example of Kate reverting to being a dumb blonde.

Wonderful bedtime reading, just don't think too hard.


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