Sir Abercrombie Lewker is feeling all of his almost sixty years. Having said goodbye to his beloved Dowager (his car), totalled in a collision with a lorry, he needs something significant to snap him out of his depression. So what better than a trip to the Tirol for a spot of mountain climbing.

Before he can leave, however, he is tasked with keeping an eye on some political machinations – South Tirol is disputed territory between the Italians and the Austrians – but even the snow-capped mountains aren’t raising his spirits as he struggles with even the simplest climb. If only someone would get murdered – that would probably cheer him up…

I’ve been in a bit of a reading slump recently. Despite reading decent books, it’s been a slow time for me, bookwise. Seriously, you try working out a school timetable with a flexible option system sometimes – it takes it out of you, mentally. But that was all done and dusted today, so, as we broke up at lunchtime, I thought the ideal afternoon would be reading a book that I’ve put aside for just such an occasion. And drinking a significant amount of wine. But mostly the book. Hic.

Alas, though, this is the final Sir Abercrombie Lewker book for me, basically as I’ve run out of them. With only fifteen such mysteries (and the three books leading up to them), while this is the fourteenth title, it does feel as if the end is nigh for Lewker. There’s a feeling of depression hanging over him here – he’s lost his car, he’s started getting bad reviews, even climbing doesn’t bring him joy – and every time he seems to brighten, something knocks him back.

Sounds depressing, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not. Carr writes with such a wonderful style – it’s loquacious and not a million miles away from a certain Brian Flynn – that every page, every turn of phrase is a delight. And this is the clincher – the murder doesn’t happen until about 75% of the way through the book. There’s barely any incident until the halfway point. Regular reader know that this is usually a massive issue for me but you know what? I didn’t care. I didn’t even care that the murderer was stunningly obvious (to me). There’s a bunch of nice characters, an interesting plot, and one of my favourite fictional sleuths of all time – even when he’s depressed, he’s wonderful company.

One day, maybe we’ll see this series back in print – I really hope so. It’s such an enjoyable set of mysteries. And one day I’ll read them all again.