Customer Reviews

Red Threads (Crime Line)

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This is a good mystery, and the clue used to trap the murderer is very a la Agatha Christie. In fact, the whole novel is a la Agatha Christie. It seems almost as if it were written to show the general public that Cramer could indeed solve a case without Wolfe's help.

The story starts one month after a brutal crime has taken place. Val Carew has been scalped in the tomb/slightly unnatural shrine of his late Indian wife with, naturally, an entire houseful of guests.

Cramer is called home from a Canadian vacation to solve the crime. Then he disappears for 60 pages while we are introduced to the characters, their motives, alibis, and relationships with each other. Once he reappears, he solves the crime, albeit with some help.

The only problem with this mystery is if you expect it to read like a Nero Wolfe. Since that's what we primarily associate with Stout, that's what we expect from him. While this novel doesn't really disappoint the reader, it's just rather slow going because you expect Wolfe and Archie to pop up at any moment. As they never do, it's something of a disappointment, but if you just tell yourself at the beginning that the novel isn't written by Stout, but someone else, it's quite enjoyable fare.

It comes as a surprise that Rex Stout, the master of dialogue and characterization, could have written this book. Simply put, Red Threads is dull. The writer tells us too much and shows us too little. The protagonist is little more than a bundle of mannerisms, lacking the spark of reality which enlivens Stout's more famous creations, Archie Goodwin and Nero Wolfe.

I was disappointed, and I don't recommend this book.

I knew this wasn't a Nero Wolfe book but Rex Stout's writing is so engrossing I thought I would enjoy this book. I was wrong. Poorly written, overly cliched, and deadly dull. Rex Stout does such a good job with male narrators but fails miserably with female. I forced myself to finish the book but, ugh.

... it's sort of filling, but you feel a bit cheated, and you keep thinking how much better it would be *with* the sauce. It wasn't until about page 50 that I realised Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin wouldn't be turning up to save the day. This has all of Stout's fine plotting and craftmanship, but it doesn't have the dialogue and the characterisations that make the Wolfe novels such a joy. Even Cramer is a mere shadow of his usual self. If you're a fan of Stout's then of course you must have this, but to continue the food analogies that always seem so apposite when discussing his work, it's a bit like having to finish your vegetables before you can move on to the lovely dessert of the brownstone on West 35th Street.