Jim EldridgeThe Museum Mysteries tome 1 sur 2
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Résumé :
After rising to prominence for his role investigating the case of Jack the Ripper, former Detective Inspector Daniel Wilson is now retired. Known for his intelligence, investigative skills, and most of all his discretion, he's often consulted when a case must be solved quickly and quietly. So when a body is found in the Egyptian Collection of the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, Wilson is called in. As he tries to uncover the identity of the dead man and the circums... >Voir plus
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Critiques, Analyses et Avis (1)
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Murder at the Fitzwilliam est le premier tome d'une série très prometteuse d'enquête qui se déroule dans les musées anglais. Nous voici donc à Cambridge, pendant l'époque victorienne où le détective privé, Daniel Wilson, est appelé pour enquêter sur un meurtre étrange : un homme a, en effet, été assassiné puis placer dans un sarcophage égyptien. Aider d'Abigail Fenton, une archéologue, sur place pour cataloguer les objets égyptiens du musée, nos deux héros vont mener l'enquête…
J'ai passé un excellent moment de lecture avec ce roman de Jim Eldridge. C'est un auteur que je lisais pour la première fois et je serais chez mon libraire mi-juillet pour la parution du second tome. C'est très bien écrit, c'est un véritable voyage dans le temps, dans cette Angleterre victorienne où les femmes se battent pour obtenir le droit de votes, ou d'avoir un métier (ou même d'avoir la parole parfois, Abigail en fera plusieurs fois les frais dans ce roman). Les hommes ne sont pas en reste, puisque j'ai appris notamment qu'à l'époque, seuls certains hommes, avaient le droit de vote (en fonction de leurs revenus) ce qui excluait une grande partie de la population. Certaines descriptions font qu'on se croirait presque dans les petites rues, polluées par les fumées du charbon, sous le brouillard à se balader dans les rues de Cambridge.
J'aurais peut-être aimé avoir plus de renseignements sur l'Egypte, l'archéologie ou les objets présents dans le musée, car au final, tout ça est un peu survolé et ne sert que de prétexte à l'intrigue.
Concernant l'enquête, elle est habilement construite même si j'avais deviné l'implication d'un des personnages dès le milieu du roman. Cela n'a en rien gâché mon plaisir et je me suis régalée. Les chapitres sont très courts et se succèdent à grande vitesse.
Nos deux personnages principaux sont vraiment très attachants et j'ai beaucoup aimé cette fin pour eux (je n'en dirais pas plus !) mais j'ai hâte de les retrouver dans la suite de leurs aventures au British Museum (tome 2) et au Ashmolean Museum (tome 3).
Lien : https://missmolko1.blogspot...
J'ai passé un excellent moment de lecture avec ce roman de Jim Eldridge. C'est un auteur que je lisais pour la première fois et je serais chez mon libraire mi-juillet pour la parution du second tome. C'est très bien écrit, c'est un véritable voyage dans le temps, dans cette Angleterre victorienne où les femmes se battent pour obtenir le droit de votes, ou d'avoir un métier (ou même d'avoir la parole parfois, Abigail en fera plusieurs fois les frais dans ce roman). Les hommes ne sont pas en reste, puisque j'ai appris notamment qu'à l'époque, seuls certains hommes, avaient le droit de vote (en fonction de leurs revenus) ce qui excluait une grande partie de la population. Certaines descriptions font qu'on se croirait presque dans les petites rues, polluées par les fumées du charbon, sous le brouillard à se balader dans les rues de Cambridge.
J'aurais peut-être aimé avoir plus de renseignements sur l'Egypte, l'archéologie ou les objets présents dans le musée, car au final, tout ça est un peu survolé et ne sert que de prétexte à l'intrigue.
Concernant l'enquête, elle est habilement construite même si j'avais deviné l'implication d'un des personnages dès le milieu du roman. Cela n'a en rien gâché mon plaisir et je me suis régalée. Les chapitres sont très courts et se succèdent à grande vitesse.
Nos deux personnages principaux sont vraiment très attachants et j'ai beaucoup aimé cette fin pour eux (je n'en dirais pas plus !) mais j'ai hâte de les retrouver dans la suite de leurs aventures au British Museum (tome 2) et au Ashmolean Museum (tome 3).
Lien : https://missmolko1.blogspot...
Citations et extraits (4)
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‘You seem to have a habit of finding dead bodies at the Fitzwilliam, miss,’ said Inspector Drabble, looking down at the body of the dead nightwatchman. A uniformed police constable stood beside him, pencil poised, notebook open.
‘I can assure you it is not intentional,’ said Abigail. ‘And it has only been two.’
‘Two more than for most people, I think you would agree,’ said Drabble stiffy.
‘Is there a point to this observation, Inspector? I assume you are not accusing me of being responsible for their deaths. If I were, I would hardly have brought the deaths to the attention of the police.’
‘I can assure you it is not intentional,’ said Abigail. ‘And it has only been two.’
‘Two more than for most people, I think you would agree,’ said Drabble stiffy.
‘Is there a point to this observation, Inspector? I assume you are not accusing me of being responsible for their deaths. If I were, I would hardly have brought the deaths to the attention of the police.’
Cambridge, 1894
Daniel Wilson stood before the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, taking in the wide stone steps that led up to the eight tall white pillars that supported the rnately sculpted frieze at the front of the building. Impressive. Imposing. But not to me, he thought as he carried his small suitcase up the steps. During his time as a member of Abberline’s team of detectives he’d been in many impressive and imposing buildings, including the Houses of Parliament at Westminster, and even Buckingham Palace – although, he had to admit, that had been via a side door rather than the front entrance. After those, even the magnificent building that housed the Fitzwilliam tended to appear slightly less imposing.He reached the top of the steps and the large green door of the main entrance. It was shut. He checked his watch. A quarter before eight.
He tugged at the bell pull beside the door, and waited. He allowed a minute to pass, then, when there was no sign of the door being opened, he tugged at the bell pull again, longer this time.The door opened just enough for a woman, wearing an apron and a headscarf and holding a broom, to peer out at him.‘We’re closed,’ she said. ‘It opens to the public at ten o’clock.’She began to push the door shut, but Daniel shoved his booted foot into the gap, halting the door’s progress.‘My name is Daniel Wilson,’ he said. ‘I’m a private enquiry agent and I’m here at the request of Sir William Mackenzie.’ He paused, then added, ‘About the body.’
Daniel Wilson stood before the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge, taking in the wide stone steps that led up to the eight tall white pillars that supported the rnately sculpted frieze at the front of the building. Impressive. Imposing. But not to me, he thought as he carried his small suitcase up the steps. During his time as a member of Abberline’s team of detectives he’d been in many impressive and imposing buildings, including the Houses of Parliament at Westminster, and even Buckingham Palace – although, he had to admit, that had been via a side door rather than the front entrance. After those, even the magnificent building that housed the Fitzwilliam tended to appear slightly less imposing.He reached the top of the steps and the large green door of the main entrance. It was shut. He checked his watch. A quarter before eight.
He tugged at the bell pull beside the door, and waited. He allowed a minute to pass, then, when there was no sign of the door being opened, he tugged at the bell pull again, longer this time.The door opened just enough for a woman, wearing an apron and a headscarf and holding a broom, to peer out at him.‘We’re closed,’ she said. ‘It opens to the public at ten o’clock.’She began to push the door shut, but Daniel shoved his booted foot into the gap, halting the door’s progress.‘My name is Daniel Wilson,’ he said. ‘I’m a private enquiry agent and I’m here at the request of Sir William Mackenzie.’ He paused, then added, ‘About the body.’
'Can he be trusted?'
'Not a bit,' said Daniel. 'But he's afraid of his wife finding ou that he's in love with the woman Ransome spent part of the night with at the Fitzwilliam.'
'My god, it sound like the plot of one of the trashy romantic novels Bella reads,' said Abigail in disgust.
'I'm afraid that real life often seems like a romantic novel for many people,' said Daniel wryly.
'Not a bit,' said Daniel. 'But he's afraid of his wife finding ou that he's in love with the woman Ransome spent part of the night with at the Fitzwilliam.'
'My god, it sound like the plot of one of the trashy romantic novels Bella reads,' said Abigail in disgust.
'I'm afraid that real life often seems like a romantic novel for many people,' said Daniel wryly.
‘If it distresses you…’ began Daniel gently.
’Of course it doesn’t distress me,’ Abigail snapped at him. ‘Life and death are facts of nature. I’ve not long returned from an archaeological dig at Gaza in Egypt, and out there human life is far more precarious than it is here in Britain. Death is an everyday fact of life there.’
‘I apologise for being overprotective of your feelings,’ said Daniel.
She sniffed, but appeared to be slightly mollified.
‘I apologise for the sharpness of my tone,’ she returned. ‘But I am fed up with being treated as some kind of fragile flower just because I am a woman. We do not all swoon at the sight of death or injury. If we did, there would have been no Florence Nightingale or her nurses to bring comfort and aid to soldiers during the Crimean War.’
’Of course it doesn’t distress me,’ Abigail snapped at him. ‘Life and death are facts of nature. I’ve not long returned from an archaeological dig at Gaza in Egypt, and out there human life is far more precarious than it is here in Britain. Death is an everyday fact of life there.’
‘I apologise for being overprotective of your feelings,’ said Daniel.
She sniffed, but appeared to be slightly mollified.
‘I apologise for the sharpness of my tone,’ she returned. ‘But I am fed up with being treated as some kind of fragile flower just because I am a woman. We do not all swoon at the sight of death or injury. If we did, there would have been no Florence Nightingale or her nurses to bring comfort and aid to soldiers during the Crimean War.’
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Quiz
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Retrouvez le bon adjectif dans le titre - (6 - polars et thrillers )
Roger-Jon Ellory : " **** le silence"
seul
profond
terrible
intense
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Thèmes :
littérature
, thriller
, romans policiers et polarsCréer un quiz sur ce livre2869 lecteurs ont répondu