Customer Reviews

London Bridges: A Novel

5 star:		(4)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

This extremely well-written and entertaining book is a quasi-thriller constructed around an exploration of how people meet and forge their own communities. Set in London, the story is populated by a disparate upper-middle class cast of professionals who are entwined in a plot revolving around some valuable South Bank real estate owned by a Greek monastery. Events are set in motion when two different groups discover the existence of the property, as well as the possibility of the existence of priceless antiques in a safe-deposit box. The story opens with a prologue out of chronological order that foreshadows events to come. Then the reader is taken back a few weeks to meet the villain of the piece, a snobby but poor lawyer who is given the task of wrapping up the affairs of an estate that puts him in contact with the South Bank property and forgotten relics. It also puts him in touch with a cunning Greek businesswoman, and the two convince each other that they might be able to get their hands on these precious items by conning an elderly Anglo-Greek banking agent into assigning the lawyer power of attorney.

Meanwhile (a phrase much used in the book), an enthusiastic preservationist has discovered an old fountain and thinks the South Bank property (currently an ad hoc community garden) is just the place for it. He's comes up with the grand scheme to get the monastary to donate the land for the project, and ropes in his friend Hattie, who works for a foundation (trust in the UK) dedicated to the nebulous task of improving London. She brings on board her friend who is a campy gay classics professor who just happens to know the abbot of the monastary. It all gets rather complicated to explain, but soon these characters all start to cross paths, along with an Australian graduate student in the classics program who moonlights as a pharmacist, an Indian lawyer born and bred in London who works at the villain's firm, and various other minor characters. These are all well-drawn figures that occasionally border on cliché at times, but whenever we see them at work or at home, they are always doing things that give them depth and life, and Stevenson shows a nice ear for dialogue. Of course, everything is pretty much constrained to the well-meaning striving set of law, academia, trusts, art, and so on, but it's still well done.

The story walks that fine line of being literate without becoming pretentious. The "thriller" aspect almost borders on a Scooby-Doo story where the gang starts to put the puzzle together, but a murder keeps things dark enough to avoid tounge-in-cheekitis. There is comedy and wit, and the climax is perhaps a bit over-the-top in the wackiness, but Stevenson makes it work nonetheless. The plot does require one to go along with a heavy dose of coincidence in terms of these people all knowing each other, but if one can get past that, it's vastly entertaining stuff. The book also mainly succeeds as a slice of London life that is a homage to the bonds of friendship. There is perhaps a little too much detail of what people wear and their home decor, but its all within context. Of course, it helps if one is predisposed to books about London and Londoners, but it should appeal to metropolitan dwellers anywhere. A thoroughly fun book that will have me seeking out more of Stevenson's works.

I thought this book was going to be a mystery, and it borders on being one, however as someone else pointed out it crosses genres and was much more. The story is very engaging, and the plot moves quickly, much as a thriller does. But this is no thriller. It is witty and funny in places -- I laughed out loud several times while reading it. It is intelligent, which is a refreshing change from so many authors today. Plus the characters are well-developed so you start caring about them. And it has a sense of place. I can think of very few "mysteries" I would say all that about. It most reminds me of my favorite mystery writer, Donna Leon, and that says quite a lot. I thoroughly enjoyed the story (which others have outlined and I will not repeat) and hated when it ended. I recommend it highly!

This is a thriller of the sort where you, the reader, know the whole plot from the beginning, but are waiting on tenterhooks for the characters to figure it out. I found this a bit frustrating, particularly when their failure to figure it out quickly enough leads to tragedy. (I'm not giving anything away here that isn't on the bookcover.) But the real joy of this book is in the characters--some of them may be a bit stereotypical, but except for the baddies (who are fun in their own right) they are all vivacious and lovely, the type of people you'd love to meet at a dinner party and wind up becoming friends with. That's exactly how most of the people in this book meet each other--a combination of random chance and friend-of-a-friend introductions--and this "bridge building" is clearly the author's most beloved theme. The academic politics and land-ownership controversies were a little dry, but those plots are really just an excuse to bring these people together and let us get to know them. It's worth it.

I first came across the book in London, where it was a big hit, and picked up a paperback copy. I am glad to find it in the US and hope others will too. "London Bridges" is a light, witty, caper (the hardest to pull off well), that reminded me of the exceptional Sarah Caudwell -- which always makes me sad to think that we no longer have more works of hers to look forward to, but I digress -- the plot is fun, thoughtfull, and more enjoyable because of the odd assotment of characters. The ending, though somewhat excessive, is a real throwback to the days of Buster Keaton and his antics. It will definitely make you laugh.

Came across this highly original British mystery while scanning the sale shelves at my local library. The story concerns a trove of valuable ancient Greek artifacts. The lawyer who handles the account for his firm realizes that the existence of the artifacts is little known to the actual owners, a monastery in Athos, Greece. He slowly becomes drawn into a plot to acquire some of the treasures for himself. The plot itself, while original, is not the sole point of interest of the novel. Ms. Stevenson has drawn a fascinating, diverse set of characters, and several gripping subplots. Lots of local color - she takes you by the hand to a number of interesting locations in and around London. While the story is slow in unfolding, and not high in action, the book is a rewarding read, both for its vivid characterizations and an original premise.

'London Bridges' by Jane Stevenson is certainly a very competent novel. The characterizations are rather humorously well drawn, and the whole feel of this lightweight mystery reflects modern London life extremely well also. Oh, the story is comedy-mystery that winds up being almost farcical. This is the sort of book one reads for the atmosphere, not for the plot. It has the feel of British television mini-series that leaves a smile on your face.

Bottom line: a pleasing read for those who know and love London.

I devoured this book and loved every minute of it. Stevenson's writing is witty, descriptive, and her humor oh-so-dry. The complicated connections she draws between the various characters and the deus-ex-machina nature of the plotting (in which coincidence is a major player) is thoroughly entertaining. This novel is pure fun....along the lines of Sarah Caudwell's mysteries (Thus Was Adonis Murdered and all the rest). This is a book meant to be read with tongue firmly in cheek--an homage to a particular kind of light mystery/caper novel. If you are a fan of this genre, you can't go wrong here.

I am quite puzzled by some of the other reviews here. I picked the book up as a remainder at a local bookshop and read it at the beach. In contrast to some prior reviewers, I found the book a sort of playful romp in the genre of the "lost manuscript". I found the characters quirky in an enjoyable manner and that the setting created a fun sense of some parts of London and environs that I have enjoyed. I enjoyed the writing and found the book overall much less pretentious than Alexander McCall Smith's newest book The Sunday Philosopher's Club(although I have enjoyed his African series). Can't we just have some fun?

This was a great let down. It is evidently an attempt to write a modern multi-cultural PC version of Margery Allingham's great London detective stories ('Tiger in the Smoke' 'The China Governess' and 'Hide My Eyes') but it fails. One of the child characters in 'The China Governess' is introduced into the novel as an adult and is an assembly of cliches.

The sense of London, so profound and chilling in Allingham's work is lost and the presentation of the city is shallow and indeed journalistic. Worse, there are authorial interventions ventriloquised via certain approved characters which read like op-ed pieces for the Independent newspaper. I'd recommend that readers try Allingham rather than Stevenson.

London has long been an international city and, in London Bridges, Jane Stevenson is keen to show just how networked it, and its inhabitants are. Geographically London spans the globe in this short novel and, on a temporal plane, London reaches through history. At the heart of the novel is, Eugenides, a Greek lawyer, an aging gentleman of the old school, with ties to an ancient Greek Monastery. He has in his possession rare manuscripts, and within his power of attorney, access to priceless relics over which he is charged to supervise at the request of his monastic clients. With all these qualifications, he is a natural target for con-artists. In no time, they find him, and the effort to swindle commences. Stevenson's London is magnetic: a visiting Australian student, a London lawyer of Indian descent, Greek monks and Greek crooks, a British scholar of ancient Greece, Brits residing in France: all, and others besides, play key roles in Stevenson's novel. There are times in London Bridges when I felt that Stevenson was losing control -- when the novel's complex plot had kidnapped the writer. "Meanwhile, on Saturday of that week, Hattie rang Sebastian." "Edward, meanwhile, had entered a stage of abject, bowel-liquidising terror..." "Meanwhile in Islington, Hattie Luck was getting ready to go to a party." "Jeanne, meanwhile, had troubles of her own." Meanwhile the reader is tossed around like the hapless tourist in a Puerta Vallarta cab. One advantage of the plot, with its "meanwhile-back-at-the-ranch" tempo, is that it does move the novel along. As does the prose, for Ms. Stevenson does not squander words. Ms. Stevenson's novel shows us a London at once vast and knowable. She merits a wide readership, especially among those of us who call other cities home, but who retain connections to that most international of capitals.