I've always been a sucker for a good detective story - especially if it comes with an iconic detective thrown in. Here, of course, it's Commander Adam Dalgliesh. I had four thoughts about this book.
   First, as always it is very well written. P.D.James writes stylishly with casual ease. To that extent, her books stack up better than those of Agatha Christie.
   On the other hand, her plots aren't quite as strong. In a way they resemble those of Ruth Rendell: both authors have the irritating habit of introducing new snippets of information right up until the end. They are never in a position to say, as Ballinger used to do with his Sexton Blake stories, 'You have all the clues at this point, dear reader. Solve it for yourself.' Agatha could have done that if she had wanted to. P.D. can't, and as well as that, Dalgliesh and some of his cronies keep saying things like, 'Well, that settle it, then', and we think, 'What?' I am not saying the plots are poor. Far from it. I just wish we had a better chance of solving the thing for ourselves.
   Published in 1977, the book seems to be lost in a pocket of time, set in a period not long after the war, when various fathers and mothers mentioned in the book were actually Victorian, and living conditions were pretty much still Victorian. That actually makes for good reading and, perhaps unintentionally at the time, is one of the strengths of the book.
   Lastly, of course, there is the presence of Commander Dalgliesh. He's an iconic figure who seems to be a walking Wikipedia and mainly doesn't bother telling anyone else what he's thinking, except to say that he disagrees with them. The minor characters are well drawn, too, but Dalgliesh towers over them all.
   Overall, a good read. It even furnished me with a typo to add to my Errata page on my professional site!
   That apart - and as with all P.D.James books, really - I can recommend it to any reader, even those who are not especially addicted to crime stories.