The Art of a Lie
Ice cream, murder, impersonation and deception – a lot of deception.
June 1749. Hannah Cole, proprietor of a cake shop in Picadilly, is newly widowed and anxious about paying her bills. William Devereux, investor and stock jobber, comes into her shop with stories of having known her husband, financial advice for her, and recipes for ice cream. Whilst the author’s well-researched account of the invention of ‘iced cream’ proceeds through logical stages, on the other hand her two main characters turn out to be very far from what they seem. The book progresses with alternate first-person narration from each of their points of view. Each emerges as a sinner but a believable one. This variation in perspective is compelling as they jockey for position, trying to win the goodwill of a magistrate – who happens to be the novelist Henry Fielding – investigating the murder of Hannah’s husband.
I have enjoyed all of Shepherd-Robinson’s previous three novels set in the 18th century: this book is shorter than its predecessors but is the first with a real person in a major role. Whilst the Columbo-style plot is extremely clever, we do feel the absence of sympathetic characters. An opportunity to rectify this was potentially available through the inclusion of Fielding. A little more of his ingenuity and insight, so obvious from his writing, would have lightened the book’s tone. As it is, this depiction of him as a detective shows someone without the mental agility of his two adversaries. A long author’s note, if informative, does confuse what Jane Austen termed ‘the tell-tale compression of the pages’, thus making the reader suspect yet another plot twist.
With fascinating, timeless insights into the psychology of tricksters, this is as sure-footed a thriller as any, contemporary or historical. Recommended.
