Slacks for Ella Funt

I used to really enjoy Martha Grimes. She’s American, but she writes the kind of traditional English mysteries I like best, in the vein of Christie and Sayers. But this one and the one before (The Old Silent) have really gotten off track. Both started off well enough, this one with a heavy dose of philosophy, which I always like in books. But both have sections written from the perspective of dogs, who go on to save the day. I’m annoyed that a dependable mystery writer has turned into a dog mystery writer—I think pet-themed mysteries are silly and even more so when the pets talk.