David Roberts, Sweet Sorrow (Soho Constable, 2009)
I've read and enjoyed several earlier books in the Lord Edward Corinth and Verity Browne historical mystery series. Sweet Sorrow is the most recent installment in the series, and according to the author's newsletter, Sweet Sorrow is also the final installment in the series.
As the original quote from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet says, "Parting is such sweet sorrow." But in this case, I think the time has come. Compared to the earlier books, I found this one to be lacking in the verve and charm that attracted me to the series in the first place. If I'd picked it up first, I am not at all sure I would have bothered with the rest. Let me explain that comment, if I can.
Sweet Sorrow takes place in August 1939, shortly before the German invasion of Poland that ignited the onset of World War II in Europe. There is a palpable anxiety evident throughout the book that relates in large part to this particular historical cusp. Lord Edward and Verity have finally tied the knot and purchased their first home, a place called the Old Vicarage in the Sussex village of Rodmell. They have a housekeeper and a large dog. Edward's manservant and sometime collaborator Fenton has already enlisted, so he is out of the picture entirely. Among their neighbors are Leonard and Virginia Woolf, with whom they spend quite a lot of time during the course of this novel.
Noticeably uncomfortable in her new role as "Lady Edward" and still recovering from a bout with tuberculosis, Verity is anxiously awaiting her next assignment with the New Gazette -- as a correspondent based in Paris. Edward seems more at ease with both marriage and village life, although he is markedly concerned about the pending separation from his new wife and very much dreading his upcoming assignment with the Foreign Office -- escorting the notorious Duke and Duchess of Windsor from the south of France to England and from there to the Americas, as far away from the looming conflict as possible.
The combination of historical period with the moods of the two main characters -- not to mention a number of the secondary characters, including the chronically depressed Virginia -- cast over Sweet Sorrow a pervasive malaise that is only exacerbated by the events that constitute the murder mystery plot. The first murder, which sets off the subsequent chain of unfortunate events, takes place just after a village fete attended by most of the main characters. The victim is Byron Gates, a womanizer and hack poet who also lives in Rodmell. Other than providing a temporary home for Gates's daughter and stepdaughter until the latter's mother returns from Hollywood (where she's a film actress), Edward and Verity try to avoid getting involved, especially because they don't particularly like the investigating police officer. He is also not at all interested in having a couple of amateur sleuths poking around in his case.
They hold their resolve until the next murder takes place in a BBC studio where Verity has just recorded an interview about her experiences during the Spanish Civil War. At about the same time they discover that they are not the only residents of Rodmell to have received anonymous threatening letters from someone who appears to be deeply offended by their immorality and "godlessness." Two more violent deaths occur before these murders are solved. Alas, none of the people who die are terribly sympathetic, and the motive for the two murders, when it's finally revealed in the last few pages of the book, isn't terribly compelling.
I would be remiss if I failed to mention one recurring quirk in Roberts' writing style that I honestly don't remember from the earlier novels in this series. Throughout Sweet Sorrow, he (or perhaps his overzealous editor) puts single words and phrases into quotation marks that don't really need to be set apart in this way. For example, Virginia speaks of the Spanish Civil War as a "just cause." Byron Gates is suspected of being a "pansy," and his first wife died of a "broken heart." Verity's boss at the New Gazette exhibits a "get up and go' approach and can't abide "red tape." After a while, encountering these carefully highlighted little tropes became irritating, I must admit.
I don't want to leave you with the impression that there's nothing at all to redeem Sweet Sorrow. In spite of its overall shortcomings, I found some scenes quite engrossing. Roberts provides a detailed description of Broadcasting House, the home of the BBC, and gives the reader a great deal of background information about the founding of this venerable British institution without becoming overly pedantic about it. Edward's meeting with a suspect and the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas at the Mitre Pub off Fleet Street is one of the best scenes I've ever encountered in any British novel, regardless of genre. I also found the references to Edward and other Cambridge graduates climbing buildings to be fascinating and a nice addition to the plot.
I just wish Roberts had managed to wrap up the series on a stronger, clearer note. I thought Edward and Verity deserved a better parting shot.
