Two and a half years ago I chose a Ruth Rendell book as my pick of the week. This week, in a small field of four, she wins the title again. Unfortunately not because it was that great, but because the others were truly mediocre.
Rendell's Not In the Flesh was so predictable that I found myself yelling at Inspector Wexford. On the other hand, by virtue of the fact that I wanted to yell at him, the characters are vividly drawn. The mystery itself was a disappointment, but the writing really deserves the accolades she has won.
This was the first time I read a Wexford mystery. I have already borrowed another in the hopes that it is harder to solve, but just as well-written.
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