I Read Books: The Moonstone
The introduction to my copy notes that this, at the very beginning of the detective novel in English, has almost all the elements we’d come to expect. A limited number of suspects, some weirdness, everybody having a secret, many red herrings, the least likely candidate being the true thief , more weirdness and a lengthy chain of coincidence with the most bizarre being the one that is actually best and most accurately researched.
If it had a serial killer rather than a cursed gemstone it could be the very model of a modern crime novel.
Where it isn’t modern is how it likes to spend its time in the set-up, enjoying itself in the company of Gabriel Betteridge. The novel succeeds or fails on whether you want to listen to a crusty old eccentric retainer of the family tell you about everything that happened, or if you think he’s a two-dimensional comic character who can’t get to the point.
Read This: For the ur-detective novel that works on its own pretty well
Don’t Read This: If odd coincidences and Victorian lengthy prose turn you off
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