Not a huge fan of crime fiction in general, I do like mysteries that have an extra element of interest to them.
Present me with some troubled modern day cop, who spends his days investigating grotty sex-related murders perpetrated with various grades of hot poker, while simultaneously battling a crack habit and wondering whether to shag his much younger and impossibly attractive assistant, and I'll probably pass in favour of Katie Price's latest autobiography.
So for me, a detective story or murder mystery needs to have something extra, something that puts all the gore in a more intriguing context.
I didn't buy Dissolution for myself, I got it for a friend as a Christmas present, a decision based entirely on superficial factors - mainly because it appeared to be about monks (she is a devout Christian) and partly because I was captivated by the olde worlde, parchment-style cover but couldn't afford to buy it for myself. I'd also kind of assumed that she liked historical fiction, though why, I really couldn't say. So I was a bit embarrassed when she popped round with the book a couple of weeks ago and revealed that she'd been surprised to enjoy it, bearing in mind the fact that she really couldn't stand historical fiction.
Still, the situation was saved by the fact that she'd enjoyed it so much, she wanted to recommend I take a look. As I'm currently too skint to buy new books, I was really pleased and couldn't wait to get stuck in, particularly as she had been so impressed by the story that she overcame her dislike of novels set pre-1960.
Personal recommendations from friends can be the bane of your life if their tastes in literature are wildly different from your own, because you really have no choice but to read it in case they ask difficult questions later. Over the years I've gnawed my painful way through countless Maeve Binchy novels, tedious romances and comedy books about funny things cats think, thanks to well-meaning but unsolicited loans from friends. But if they are on your wavelength, word of mouth can be the best way to discover new joys in reading.
Dissolution is the first in a very popular series of mysteries concerning Matthew Shardlake, a medieval hunchback who goes around doing the bidding of the deeply unpleasant Lord Thomas Cromwell. The world of Henry VIII and his ill-fated henchman is one in which I have recently become saturated - having read Wolf Hall, visited Hampton Court Palace, watched The Six Wives of Henry VIII and started getting addicted to The Tudors on BBC2 (in which old Chubba Chops is still surprisingly slim, good-looking and not ginger, despite now being in the twilight of his life) all in the last few months, I'm familiar with this geezer and his doings.
Following his break from Rome so that he could finally get down and dirty with Anne Boleyn, Henry is now enthusiastically dismantling the old church and Shardlake, a London lawyer with a huge chip on his shoulder (not to mention the hump), is dispatched to a Sussex monastery to investigate the grisly murder of one of Lord Cromwell's commissioners. Here, Shardlake encounters a house of God gone rotten, where the monks enjoy rather more good food, home comforts and hot bum action than St Benedict originally prescribed.
Dissolution was good. I don't think it was any more than good, simply because I spotted the culprit from the moment they appeared on the page, but read on in happy anticipation of them turning out to be a red herring, of course . But they weren't a red herring. It was them.
This was disappointing and left me feeling a bit annoyed, as usually I'm terrible at spotting murderers and was possibly the only person in the world who didn't spot the twist in The Sixth Sense a mile off. (As a digression, what the hell has happened to M Night Shamalayan? I mean, did you see The Village?? Did you??!!??)
The mystery is entertaining enough, but the lead character is an enigma, simply because he is rather unsympathetic. I don't know if Sansom deliberately made him self-righteous, rude and envious in order to play with the reader's sympathies, or if it was accidental, but I didn't warm to Shardlake very much. You know you are not a fan of the so-called hero when, during the inevitable dramatic showdown during which one of the protagonists faces certain death, you find yourself rooting for the bad guy.
Shardlake takes his good-looking young assistant to the monastery with him and his conflicting feelings of affection and jealousy towards the buck are interesting. I won't spoil the storyline by revealing why, but disagreements arise between the pair and again, my sympathies lay entirely with the youngster.
I will read more of the series, to see if Shardlake's appeal improves and it was an entertaining enough read. But the medieval setting and political backdrop were what really kept my interest and had this been a contemporary story, it would probably have been put back on the shelf.
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