: Murder at the National Gallery
Author: Margaret Truman
I’ll be blunt by beginning by saying that this was a feeble book. I suppose part of my negative impression stems from expecting a traditional murder mystery, a la Agatha Christie. This is more like a political/spy thriller. Truman has written a slew of best-selling “Murder…” books, all centered around Washington, D.C. I dread the thought that they are all like this one. First, there are several murders, not one, the first occurring nearly halfway into the book, and the only one actually at at the National Gallery at about the four-fifths mark! The structure of the story is strange: important characters are introduced early but not sketched out until very late in the book, and the heroine — I guess she’s the heroine — is nothing more than a stick figure. She basically does absolutely nothing more than look pretty and receive a few phone calls, yet she’s treated by the author (and the others in the book) as the grand savior! The plot deals with stealing a $50 million painting, which ought to be exciting, but the plan is so full of holes there’s no question the perpetrator is going to fail. The only mystery in this book is why I read it.
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