Good Morning, Midnight
(2004)
Blurb:
My review:
It
is rather
depressing to reflect that after producing a slew of classics in the
1990s (Recalled to Life, Pictures of Perfection, On
Beulah Height and Dialogues of the
Dead), Hill has reverted to the sloppy construction, improbable
plots and
arbitrary murderers of his earlier work.
Here, the reader is left in as much doubt as the detectives as
to the
identity of the murderer of Pal McIver, Senior, whose son committed a
copy-cat
suicide. Instead of a plausible ending,
we get an excess of swearing; more adolescent masturbation; several
poorly-characterised figures (the aggressively American Kafka and the
scatter-brained Helen whose conversation is liberally studded with
Flora
Casbyisms); and not much story. Still,
no Frannie Roote, which is a good thing.