Ah, Mary Russell. Yay! This is a series that you just can’t explain to anyone who hasn’t read it because it just sounds like twaddle as soon as you get to the “and then she marries Sherlock Holmes” bit (and possibly before). But I love Russell, she’s one of only a few authors on my “buy hardback on release” list and actually I think that Waterstone’s managed to deliver this book to me before it was released which is weird but good. And yes, the way these books are packaged up as Mary Russell’s memoirs does make me think of them as her books rather than Laurie King’s.

This one sees Russell chasing off to 1925 Bedlam lunatic asylum as well as partying with Cole Porter in Venice. I do think that the character of Holmes has morphed a bit but I haven’t read Conan Doyle in a long time, and, hey, relationships will do that to people.

A good fun read, I did think the plot got a bit ropey in spots but certainly nothing to put me off buying up future instalments on release.