An hilariously clever spoof of pre-war, Agatha Christiesque British crime/mystery novels. I laughed my way through this dizzying concoction of mystery theater and mystery novels within a mystery novel. There was even an errant serial killer running around, whose story was unrelated to the main mystery about the theft of a painting which Jackson Brodie had been hired to solve.

The story ends in an utterly (and, yes, I'm using this completely clichéd word because it's absolutely perfect) madcap scene. Atkinson has done a great job.

** I have to include one quote that is not really relevant to the main plot, but is the best put-down of giant SUV machismo that I've read:

'Wow," Reggie said when she saw the Defender...not a good "wow," as in, "Wow, what an amazing set of wheels, I wish I had one." No, it was "wow" more in the line of..."Wow, so the male menopause isn't a myth then," or..."Wow, a manifestation of your existential dread." Or..."Wow, Mr. B, flash motor. That's a lot of meals on wheels." '

I will definitely remember those for future use. (BTW, guilt catches up and Brodie eventually turns the Defender in for a "planet-friendly hybrid,")