It was a pleasure to have fall into this new, pleasing schedule of reading for pleasure a new novel by my favorite author, P.D. James. I first heard of its forthcoming release nearly a year before it appeared on bookshelves, the anticipation steadily building as the months left the calendar. Finally, one evening when I walked through the doors at Borders, there it was, patiently waiting.
The story was, in many ways, a standard James mystery novel. The first 90 pages or so were a build-up of character introduction and intrigue, capped-off by the first murder. We're then introduced to the main protagonist, Adam Dalgliesh, and his team of police detectives. The book was good -- very good -- and was a pleasure to read.
One of the main themes of "The Private Patient" was that of love. It was at times reflected somewhat stiltedly, for reading James's descriptions of characters in love is not unlike reading a centuries-old work by Jane Austen. Nevertheless, the meaning, the impact, isn't reduced. Indeed, I found this novel to resonate on such an emotional level with me, that it now ranks as one of my all-time favorite books.
It is rare, I think, for a literary work of fiction to strike an overly-emotional chord. Perhaps I haven't read enough books, but they would seem to be a more intellectually-stimulating form of entertainment than, say, film or television. Indeed, I believe film-critic Roger Ebert has said something akin to this on occasion. It's not unheard of for me to cry during a movie. It's an unusual book that will move me to tears. For that, I will always relish and remember "The Private Patient."
I'm now reading "The Rainaldi Quartet" by Paul Adam. It's a good little mystery so far, but it doesn't hold a candle to the latest work by P.D. James. Then again, very few mysteries do.
