I can't honestly say I liked this book - mostly I was desperate for it to finish. But somehow it still retains a space on my bookshelf, and I'm not sure why.

It may be the writing quality - I have not come across many authors with such a secure grip on lyrical prose as Ajay Close. The imagery is perfect. The dialogue has a definite zing to it. But that's part of the problem. I am sure there are some very witty and erudite people in Glasgow, but this novel gives the impression that everybody in that city, right down to underpaid postal workers on their lunch hours, engage in witty repartee of incomparable quality that never lets up for a moment. Sorry Glasgow, but I don't believe it.

What I also couldn't quite believe was the central premise - that the post office employs people with the remit to go pootling round the city playing Sherlock Holmes just because a letter with a poorly printed address seems to contain a blackmail threat. I know there was a passing nod towards 'correct procedure' which would have involved the police, but that's all it was, as that would have blown the plot to bits. And the blackmail threat was pretty ambiguous when it came down to it. The police would probably have laughed. And told the posties to get back on their rounds because it's a disgrace that the first post doesn't arrive 'til gone three (etc etc).

The book leaves me wondering whether it's possible for writing to be too good? I think it is, because there was a good story in here that was drowning in prose. Just make it a bit more believable and I'm sure I would have really enjoyed it. ( )