Believing the Lie (Inspector Lynley Mystery, Book 17)

This dreary convoluted tome, Believing the Lie, stands as testament to the fact that the life went out of Elizabeth George's books about the time she killed off Helen. This follows the basic formula--many characters and many subplots--but the primary plot is completely implausible. Lynley is sent off on a "secret" mission to see if the accidental death of one of the Fairclough clan was really an accident. He blunders around for days--although the time frame is not very clear because how could Zed, the tabloid reporter (yet another subplot), meet and fall in love in those few day?? Lynley discovers what any half-way intelligent private detective could have discovered in half the time--and with far less fallout. Deborah and St. James go along to help--but since this whole thing is off the books, how they are going to submit expenses isn't clear. Maybe rich people just donate days of their time to solving imagined crimes by other rich people. Havers spends most of the novel having an anxiety attack over having her hair cut and getting new clothes. Really???? Isabelle, the super that Lynley is bonking, spends the entire novel pissed out of her mind because she doesn't know what Lynley is up to and Havers does. The poor dead guy was gay, a perfect opening for just about every tired homophobic cliche George could find. Good grief. The LGBT community seems responsible for family destruction, duplicity, and self-loathing--not to mention a little sprinkling of pedophilia and child pornography. Poor Deborah ends up with the worst role of all--a pregnancy/child-wanting obsessed nutcase chasing after another unfortunate woman who wants a child.

How does all this connect, you might ask? Well, believe me, by the time you get to the end of the book, you won't care.

It seems to me that the most repellant characters (I include Deborah in that group) just wander around here and there, wrecking other people's lives and never suffering much in the way of consequences--not even much of a dent to their self-satisfied little conscience. Whereas, the most likable characters (I include Barbara in this group) accumulate nothing but disaster, sorrow, and punishment. I know this is a work of fiction and perhaps the unrelenting campaign against Barbara, works to provide tension (will Charlie Brown EVER get to kick that football?) but for me, it makes reading these books increasingly dissatisfying. How many times is it possible to involve yourself in these characters, only to have things turn out this way? Even in real life, villains sometimes get their due and heroes sometimes catch a break. Lynley is not very likable in this book either--using others for dubious ends and putting them in the way of risk. Was he always so wimpy? I understand the heart has been cut out of him by Helen's death and I'm not suggesting he just "get over it". But I think it's time the stories moved beyond this.

The premise underlying the plot was so ridiculous, it made the investment in reading it feel like a big cheat. The pretext to involve Scotland Yard in this investigation and the motive for it, are insulting to any reader--even one who is willing to be co-operative in suspending judgment for the sake of a story.

I suppose I just disappointed. I enjoyed Elizabeth George's earlier books so much, that when I read something like this, I feel let down. The characters are not developing, they're wallowing. The story has so many threads. Perhaps the problem is the attempt to introduce so many important themes in one book, when they might have been dealt more satisfyingly in separate novels.

Ms. George is an excellent writer, and it's that quality that keeps me coming back, but if I have to be dragged through yet another "poor Deborah can't get past her barren state, followed by her obsessive, monstrously selfish pursuit of her own ends" book, I will give it a pass.

I agree with other readers that the series is somewhat in decline, but I still enjoy the masterful writing skills employed by Elizabeth George. "Believing The Lie" is really more an exploration of the various ways that people deceive both themselves and others (and how that deceit comes back to haunt them) than it is a traditional mystery. If you are looking for a fast-paced whodunit and if you are not already familiar with the characters in the Lynley series than you probably won't like this book. If you enjoy George's writing style and her ability to spin a solid and engrossing tale, "Believing The Lie" delivers. I will continue to read Elizabeth George and she ends the book with a twist that will intrigue devoted fans of the series.

Believing the Lie is not a mystery at all; it is a character study. Thus, this review will examine it as such. I make no effort to discuss the plot, mostly because there is none. Even if there were one, which I suppose there sort of is, it is not important to the overall success (or failure) of the novel, at least in my opinion.

I also plan to focus on the flaws of the book. I am not exactly sure what its strengths are. I do know, however, that I kept reading, and was riveted by the book, from start to finish. It takes strong writing to compel any reader to stay riveted. It takes even stronger writing to compel any reader to stay riveted when the book is as profoundly problematic as this one.

The most obvious problem for me is the family at the center of the book. The book is essentially about the process of this family coming unraveled. The difficulty is this: all of the members of the family (or almost all, I am not going to give away the entire story line) are deeply dysfunctional. They have, however, managed to conceal this not only from the rest of the world but from each other. They live and work together; in any event, they see each other all the time. It is inconceivable that people who are supposed to be as intelligent as these are could be so utterly oblivious as to fail to recognize each other's failings as human beings and as family members. Lynley's involvement in this family's affairs turns out to be the result of an act on the part of one of the characters that is taken in the absence of any intelligent thought about its implications and the destruction that might (and, of course, does) result. The story lines go downhill from there. The gloom and despair are unremitting.

A second serious problem lies with Lynley himself. His affair with Acting Superintendent Ardery, shocking on many grounds at its inception in the preceding novel, is indefensible, inexplicable, offensive, and soulless. I had thought better of him, but he apparently has no sense of honor. He also does not hesitate to get his loyal underlings (especially Barbara Havers) into trouble with their (and his) boss, something I would have thought he would not do either. He had better stop wallowing in his own frailty if he wants people to keep reading about him. It is all very well and good to create a detective with faults, but his are eating him alive.

The third serious problem involves Deborah. Her conduct in the novel is deeply disturbing as well as inexplicable, and the forces she unleashes create massive destruction in many lives. She is utterly blind to anything except her own needs, apparently not caring whom she hurts as she charges at whatever windmill she thinks she is fighting. At the end of the novel, it sounds like she is going to be able to forgive herself all too easily for the wreckage she has produced. I hope that she cannot do so, as her conduct was unforgiveable.

A fourth problem lies with what seems to be Ms George's infinite desire to torture Barbara Havers. Why can't she ever get a break? What did she ever do to deserve the smackdowns she is forever being handed by Ms George?

I suppose I need to acknowledge Ms George's success as an author in light of the above review--obviously I care about the people she has created. What I do not like is the infinite and unremitting despair that the novel reflects. In all fairness, there are two bright spots in the novel: one of the family members (I'm not saying which one) and Yaffa, a relatively minor character, who is a delight. There is some redemption. But not much. And none for Lynley.

Ugh.

This is a phenomenally disappointing book. Technically, George is a great writer; but she used to marry that technical skill with interesting and believable plots and characters. Now, her strong writing style just emphasizes the many and glaring plot holes, inconsistencies, imbecilities, and out-of-character actions that make up the story.

In order to fully explain my disgust, I have to reveal spoilers because so much of the offensive content is concentrated in the last quarter of the book. For those who don't want to read any spoilers, be prepared for George to ask you to excuse Deborah's unjustified, unreasonable, and invasive behavior--and the horrific consequences--because Simon and Lynley do so (and the idea that Lynley would respond as he does in this book contradicts what we learned about him in the very first novel of this series, A Great Deliverance). Be prepared for Lynley to continue to be selfish when it comes to his interactions with Havers, and for Havers to continue to put Lynley's interests before her own. I could accept that pattern in the initial aftermath of Helen's death, when Lynley is understandably immersed in grief, but 8 months out, I expect him to remember that Havers and he are partners, and she's not his devoted servant (though that dynamic is increasingly played out between them). Be prepared for George to write a family so dysfunctional that almost everyone in it is prepared to sacrifice the happiness/well-being of another member in order to protect his/her own interests.

*********************spoilers ahead******************

I share many reviewers' objections to the way that George portrays the sexual minorities in the book, the bizarre child pornography leading to suicide-as-murder story (and the unbelievable "happy" ending to that plot), Lynley's out-of-character and icky relationship with Isabelle Ardery (who becomes, somehow, even more unlikeable), and Deborah's horrific conduct and the offensive absolution that she receives from Tommy and Simon. I'd like to focus on two other issues: one concerning the unbelievably contrived reason for Lynley's investigation, and the other concerning Lynley's conduct towards Havers and his absolution of Deborah (and the implications for his character).

The major problem with the book's plot isn't that there is, in fact, no murder at the heart of it. It's that the wealthy mother of a recovering meth addict--who apparently is worried about his potential for relapse--would manipulate her unfaithful husband into getting Scotland Yard to covertly investigate an accidental death by implicating the known-to-be-innocent son in order to expose said unfaithful husband's lies. I think George expects us to be sympathetic to this 67 year-old mother who is betrayed by her husband and one of her daughters. But this same mother already knows about her husband's infidelity and its result before the book even starts. She just wants to expose and--using her words--humiliate him in front of his family.

So, instead of hiring a private investigator to expose the man that she plans to condemn before, ultimately, taking him back, she waits for the accidental death of that husband's nephew (a death she knows is accidental), and then initiates a convoluted plan to get an unofficial official investigation, all the while using her supposed doubt's about her own child's innocence as an excuse. Any sympathy I would have otherwise have for this character dissolves into loathing over the callous disregard for her son (all the while claiming, of course, that she never meant to hurt him). "Really, son, I don't think you're a murderer--I just wanted Scotland Yard to think that so that someone could expose your father's double life."

Oh, and no one from Scotland Yard even suggests to her that this was an inappropriate use of limited police resources.

I could have gotten by that plot point, however, if George didn't continue to assassinate Lynley's character and the Lynley-Havers' relationship. One of the most infuriating things about this book--and the previous ones--is that Tommy pays more attention to the needs and concerns of virtual strangers (that idiotic potential love interest from Careless in Red, and now Isabelle Ardery) then he does to his long-term partner's, even though that partner has been unfailingly loyal and did, in fact, save his life. So, Lynley doesn't even notice that Barbara's teeth have been fixed, though he certainly noticed their poor condition when he first met her. He provides no support to her in connection with Ardery's "suggestions" that Barbara get a makeover--not even the support of saying that she looks good.

And then he asks Havers to do a lot of investigation when he knows that he has no authority to ask for her help and that her help could get her in trouble with Ardery. Tommy knows that Barbara will help, even if it gets her in trouble, which, of course it does. But does he show her any of the same loyalty? No. He takes no steps to protect Barbara from Ardery until it's too little and too late. And when Barbara calls him at the end of the book, with a legitimate crisis of her own, he can't step away from his roller derby watching (and, really, are you kidding us, George?) long enough to find out what she needs or why she's calling.

Finally, there's Tommy's reaction to Deborah. Deborah spends most of the book focused on someone who is never identified as a suspect, all because Deborah found a fertility magazine in the person's home. Deborah's relentless pursuit continues past all reason and sense--including the certain conclusion of her forensics expert husband that no crime was committed and Tommy's own judgment that Altaea's fertility issues aren't a factor in the investigation--because Deborah is still obsessing over her own fertility problems. So, she continues a ridiculous charade as a Met sergeant and hounds a woman to death. And when she finally evinces some introspection that she's behaved abominably, Lynley rushes in to assure her that Altaea's death wasn't her fault but the result of the "secrets and lies" Altaea carried. He then smiles "fondly" at Deborah and drives her home. Well-justified, if way too late, crisis of conscience, possibly leading to a less selfish and histrionic outlook, successfully averted!

Contrast this with Lynley's reaction in A Great Deliverance when Havers runs away with her assumptions about the victim's eldest daughter and ends up alienating and traumatizing the daughter--who has vital information that will help Lynley solve the case. Lynley blames Havers and makes it clear that he doesn't trust her or her judgment. But for all that Havers messes up, her actions don't result in death, and the witness is able to eventually provide the necessary information. So is it just red-headed neurotics that Lynley used to sleep with who get to act on wild assumptions and hound people to death?

I used to wonder why Lynley ever wanted to marry Deborah and why he continues to trust her judgment. Given the recent character assassination, I'm beginning to feel that Lynley and Deborah should get together so that they can feed each other's egos, and Simon and Havers can start a private detective business based on mutual respect and friendship--what I once thought Havers and Lynley had.

Ugh.

Ms. George used to be a terrific writer, but here we have another long rambling so-so "mystery" novel without much of a mystery. What a bore Deborah has become and what a tedious busy body: you just want to slap her. And, yes, regardless of what Lynley said, she is responsible for a death. What a bore the drunken flake Isabelle is. I can't believe she would be placed in charge of anything, much less a department at Scotland Yard. Even Barbara Havers is boring in this one. Why can't she just have a functional OK haircut from the UK version of the Hair Cuttery and be done with it? Barbara is smart enough that she would have grown more in the course of the series. Enough with the hair symbolism. Also I could not believe for a minute that the emotionally cool Simon would ever consider an open adoption with teenage parents and their parents given admission into his controlled life. He wouldn't consider it for a second. I am bored with the whole baby theme. And I think I am finally bored with Lynley too.

Ms. George should not try to write about sex. She has no talent for it. She is just plain embarrassing.

She has toned down the British slang, but her editor--assuming she has one which I doubt--should have cut out most of the many uses of "suss" and all variations of "comprise." She actually uses comprising twice in one sentence.

Years ago I discovered Ms. George from a glowing recommendation given in passing at a meeting at the old Book-of-the-Month Club. Those days are long gone. So sad. What happened I wonder? That's the mystery.

Let me begin by saying that I have been a huge Elizabeth George fan. I even accepted the messy demise of Helen in an earlier book. I plodded through What Came Before He Shot Her. But this book leaves me cold. It has too many stereotypical characters (conniving Jewish mother, unfaithful homosexual husband, distraught barren wife, etc.). And the plot is wildly unbelievable as well. And to top it off, it could not, by any stretch of the imagination, be called a murder mystery. Early on, we are told that the death was an accident. On the positive side, as usual, George shines in her depiction of the area, in this case Cumbria. The writing is ok but she really needed a good editor. The fact that she jumped ship and left Bantam Books for Dutton might account for this flaw. I think I have given up permanently on George. She has strayed so far from the wonderful English murder mysteries that I enjoyed that she is permanently lost. Inspector Lynley and Sergeant Havers, I will miss you but I can't imagine wading through another massive tome just to find out there is no substance to the plot. No suspects to weed out one by one. No plot twist to make me finallly say, "Of course, he did it. How could I not have seen that."

Barbara Havers is my favorite character in Elizabeth George's Inspector Lynley series. Why? Because she injects much-needed energy, realism, and humor into Ms. George's storylines. Barbara is not just a great foil for Lynley, their connection is a window into who each of them really is - and that's something the reader, at least this reader, truly cares about. While reading the past several Lynley books, I have waited, and waited (and then waited some more) for Barbara to appear so the book could pick up some life and energy, and really move forward. And, that's one of the problems with "Believing the Lie." Barbara doesn't show up to save the plot soon enough. It seems that all of the other characters have lost their moorings -- Lynley just doesn't behave in any recognizable manner -- he seems to be going through the motions, and his relationship with his superior officer is laughably superficial. The superior officer's character is not at all likeable or understandable, and this is not the Thomas Lynley that I have followed and cared about in previous books. And, because Lynley has no extended conversations or interactions with Havers, we don't get the benefit of the richness of that relationship which has given many of the previous Lynley books a real backbone and a very interesting dynamic. Lynley's old friends Simon and Deborah St. James don't really bring much depth to the book either. Simon seems like a cardboard cut-out, and Deborah is, quite simply, running around like a chicken with her head cut off. These people don't reflect any of their shared past, nor do they help us understand the real emotional pain they are obviously feeling. Ms. George has not advanced the ball on these characters' internal emotional lives, nor has she advanced the ball on their connections with each other. That frustrates me, because, before Ms. George took the unfortunate step of killing off Lynley's wife, Helen, I really cared about these characters. Although I still care, I'm becoming impatient with what I think are wasted opportunities to develop the bonds between these characters. Other readers have expressed the opinion that this book is "homophobic." I disagree. However, the same-sex couple involved in the plot isn't really portrayed with any depth either, so we're left puzzled about what the bond really was between them, and what happened when one of the men's previous marriage ended in divorce, and he brought his two children to live with his lover. Did he love his children? Did they love him? Why is their mother so superficial and completely uninterested in her children? These are some of the many empty spaces in this book that are never truly filled in. Having expressed all these concerns, I still give the book three stars because Ms. George writes beautifully, and I remain loyal to these characters. My sincere plea to Ms. George: please get back to who Lynley really is, what his relationships with the central recurring characters are really about, and please use one of the great characters in detective fiction, Barbara Havers, to her fullest advantage. With these characters as central figures, the "who-done-it" becomes that much more interesting. In "Believing the Lie" there is an unduly complicated story with lots of storylines, and not many (if any) real people whose plight we care about. In other words, this isn't the kind of Lynley novel that has given this wonderful series its much-deserved excellent reputation.

Wow. Is it still Tuesday?

Loved this, and I only wish that work hadn't interrupted my reading. I'm not a fan of the kind of reader review that includes a superfluous plot summary--the publisher's blurb is perfectly adequate for that--and when I read reviews I always want to know just this: am I likely to enjoy/learn from/appreciate the book, and is it worth spending the dosh?

1) If you're a lover of only spare, plot-driven novels, probably not. If that's what you want, you're likely to call this `bloated.' A novelized haiku it ain't.

2) If you haven't read the other Lynley novels, again, probably not. One of Ms George's strongest points is her character development throughout the series. Read from the beginning and then buy this one.

3) If you've loved all the other Lynley novels, heck yeah! It's totally engrossing, although even I have to admit that it could have been trimmed down quite a lot without sacrificing much.

Ms George continues her trend of exploring an old crime, developing an intense feel for place, and hanging a novel off it. Although I found this absolutely excruciating in `This Body of Death,' which was hard to read because of how close it was to a real crime that hit me hard at the time, it's much lighter here--the tragedy of the cocklers in Morecombe Bay is barely mentioned but was nevertheless clearly important to the plot development.

As a Brit I should mention that Ms George's ear for dialogue is superb, and she's even caught the British sense of humor. That's rare for American authors.

The novel's much like life, wrinkles, warts and all. One gets the impression that Ms George lives pretty much in her characters' collective heads wherever she sets them down, and writes it all--something that's sooner or later going to limit her market to wallowers like me who thoroughly enjoy intense character development. I agree with other reviewers that Deborah's obsession with bearing a child (and Ms George's intense exploration of it) is getting a bit much, but it's true to life for anyone who's ever known a woman who lets the issue become all-important and thus destructive. In this book it becomes truly, tragically destructive, and thank goodness Deborah seems to have got a metaphorical slapping at last. Secrets, lies, obsessions, and willful ignorance all cause lives to implode and ineluctably alter in 'Believing the Lie'; the characters are given no choice but to grow up, or fall.

One note: `Here, here'??? Seriously? Some copy editor also needs a good slapping.

But I'm happy to see that the ending makes it apparent that another novel is well on its way.

What a disappointment! I wait eagerly for every new Elizabeth George novel, but I wasted my money and time on this one (and on the last two novels as well...). And why does Barbara get cheated out of a decent storyline again, while annoying, needy, whiny Deborah gets made into a main character? This series was always the gold standard, but I just don't see it getting any further along in plot or character development. Its such a shame.