We are temporarily only able to ship Faber Shop orders to addresses in the UK.
The writer and professional controversialist Gustav Slavorigin is murdered in the small Swiss town of Meiringen during its annual Sherlock Holmes Festival, his body discovered with an arrow through the heart. With a price of ten million dollars on Slavorigin’s head, almost none of the Festival’s guests can be regarded as above suspicion. Except Evadne Mount, of course, the stubborn amateur sleuth and bestselling crime novelist from Gilbert Adair’s The Act of Roger Murgatroyd and A Mysterious Affair of Style. Neither of those two cases, however, prepared her for the jaw-dropping twists of this new investigation, which climaxes at Meiringen’s principal tourist attraction, the Reichenbach Falls – the site of Holmes’s fatal confrontation with his nemesis, Moriarty . . .
The detailing of Evadne's investigation is secondary to Gilbert's musings about life, art and crime fiction ... This novel is immensely entertaining jeu-d'esprit, a ragbag of puns and allusions that literary trainspotters will delight in rummaging in, but is there anything to distinguish it from a dozen other such books? I would say yes: it's quiet poignancy. Adair's criticism of his previous Evadne novels is just one example of the honesty with which he writes about the shortcomings of his life and work here, and this lends the novel, for all it's metafictional tricks, the ring of an authentic autobiography. Whether the Gilbert Adair of this book behaves and speaks like the genuine Gilbert Adair I don't know, but he bahaves and speaks like a real person, and this gives his account of his unlikely misadventures and emotional charge rarely found in whodunnits, parodies, postmodern fictions or any combination of the three.
I read this book in a constant state of admiration: smiling, chuckling and often lauching out loud.
Even the footnotes can make you laugh out loud ... The repartee throughout is even sharper than the murder weapon. For some, it may serve the same purpose and so classic-crime pastiche to death once and for all. but it's hard to resist the contagion of the high-octane hysteria that drives this postmodern prankstery, all held within a cunning corset of plottish hokum
Relentlessley self-referential and gleefully mixing fact with fiction, this is the ingenious, jokey post-modern novel taken to its ultimate extreme.
Adair's deliciously ingenious spoof-plots ... one of Adair's several tours de force ... there are so many pleasures that it doesn't matter who skewered the corpse ... And then There Was No One is, thus far, Adair's funniest and perhaps most slippery novel.
a hugely enjoyable entertainment ... Adair managed to tease and beguile even this jaded reviewer into enjoying this intelligent, silly, serious, sparkling little squib ... It's adair's triumph to transmute this knowingness into apparently self-depreciating wit - a trick of charm which is as British as Agatha Christie.
Browse a selection of books we think you might also like, with genre matches and a few wildcards thrown in.