Chapel Noir (Hardcover)

Adler's latest two-part adventure, Chapel Noir and Castle Rouge, is told through a series of journal entries by her female companion Penelope Huxleigh. Additional chapters are supposedly taken from notes written by a prostitute called Pink and sections of a mysterious yellow book of anonymous authorship. This multiple "authorship" allows Douglas to present her story from different perspectives.

And what a story! In Chapel Noir Adler is called on by Baron de Alphonse Rothschild to investigate a particularly bloody murder in a Parisian bordello. Before long Jack the Ripper is the suspect and Sherlock Holmes (sans Watson) has come to Paris to investigate. As the plot moves on, more famous historical figures are drawn in either as suspects or allies. 470 pages later I found, instead of the end, that this is the first of a two part story.

A rollicking adventure that continues for another 470 pages in Castle Rouge. Lots of fun if you can stand the gruesome aspects of the crimes.

#1. The suspect in the story (read it yourself, Mac!) is a genuine Jack-the-Ripper suspect, and considered by many to actually BE the Ripper. He had murdered his wife and was an escapee (or more likely let go) from a madhouse.

#2. The Ripper murders have always been claimed to show some religious or occult symbol, authors vary on what. Me, the ol' Raven is like The Great Randi, skeptic unparalleled, who points out that any pattern is only possible if you connect the dots that way.

#3. Pink. Yes, that was her nickname, and her name as given in the book is her real one. But no one remembers her by that name, since she is world-famous under a pseudonym. I won't say what it was, but if I did all of you would slap your forehead and say "Oh, yeah! I've heard of her!" You probably think Mark Twain was his real name too.

As for the story ending midstream, do you really want an 800 page book? There's just too much to tell in one story. So read Castle Rouge. It'll pay. Quoth the Raven...

The topper was the "discussion questions" and interview with the author at the end of the book. These clearly displayed the author's self-infatuation and pretense of "deep ideas", with the questions focusing on women's roles in the 19th century and such tired old chestnuts as the duality of sexual mores concerning men and women's roles and habits (e.g. If Jack the Ripper had murdered a series of men, would anyone still be talking about him and what are the societal connotations of this apparent infatuation with men savaging women? Why was it acceptable for men to be promiscuous and women not to be?). It all smacks of freshmen-year pseudo-intellectual claptrap.

If you want a well-paced mystery novel, try Caleb Carr, Lindsey Davis, George Pelecanos, Bernard Cornwell, Simon Scarrow, Rosemary Rowe, Agatha Christie, Steven Saylor or David Wishart.

How bad is this book? How high is "up"? I'm kicking myself for buying the hardcover version. I plan to give it away as a gift to someone I don't really like.