Aberystwyth n'est pas mon amour (sorry too)

I can only really agree with what Jenny and Jaime said. I loved how this novel started. And I really loved the idea. And it was full of charming anecdotal hilarious little jokes and daft ideas which did get me giggling. This really should have been my sort of book in spades. But I found that I was so utterly bored by the plot that the end of the novel honestly actually came as a blissful relief. Moments of comic genius were eventually blurred by an over-egging that made this pudding ultimately impalatable. So I'm not going to buy the second and third in the series. One was enough.
Still, I'm actually glad I read it. The cover was fab. And if it sends anyone careering in the direction of Raymond Chandler, then that's got to be a good thing. In fact, I think I may dig out my old copy of The Long Goodbye... hmm. Now there's pulp fiction with comic timing, and plots to die for, not to Dai for... (ok, sorry, I'll stop now.)

Talking of child/adult crossover fiction...

...here is our next installment! I'm rather excited about this one too. Just hoping the seriously expensive cover isn't hiding a multitude of literary sins.
Jx

Aberystwyth Mon Amour – Innocuity in its element, a novel so harmless, I needed to make up a new word to describe it....

I love Philip Pullman and Philip Pullman thinks this book is marvellous……Philip Pullman is wrong.

Mr Pullman is a master of the child-adult crossover market and, pertinently so, Aberystwyth Mon Amour screams juvenility. This child-adult game is hard to pull off, and especially hard to pull off well. I love Kate’s idea that Aberystwyth Mon Amour is a kind of Bugsy Malone lampoon, in fact I’d be rather impressed if a twist in that vain was thrown into the blend at the end. Sadly….

Anyhoot, it started well, in fact I actually underlined a few moments of promise within the first 50 pages or so. The pace was agreeable and the characters jovial; I LOVED Sospan and his layman philosophy and was extremely tickled by the thought of existentialist week at the ice-cream parlour – who else is dying to get their hands on a wafer of the absurd?

However I’m afraid the bottom line has to be that Aberystwyth Mon Amour is a pretty ropey pastiche that lacks the laconic wit and breakneck rhythm that drives a detective story of quality. Louie Knight certainly ain’t no Philip Marlowe – and no Philip Pullman can persuade me otherwise.

But its harmless – it questions nothing, it answers nothing, refutes nothing, avows nothing – and for me, my lack of drive to underline is a real mark of the innocuous.