Finally!

I finished Ngaio Marsh's 'Opening Night'.  And goodness me, what a marathon of tedium it turned out to be.  A highly uninteresting death, too many lacklustre motives held by two-dimensional characters and a deeply unconvincing love story to top it all of.

Alleyn turned up very near the end and seemed as bored with the proceedings as I was.  I can't blame him.  He was simply going through the motions, didn't even seem to do any deducing - just collected the facts and somehow (it wasn't explained very well) arrived at the solution.  As far as I could make out it was a case of, 'right there's the story and - enny meeny miny mo - he's the culprit... bam...  I'm going home.'

By the end I neither knew nor cared who the killer was.  I strongly advise against ever trying to read this book or listen to the audio version.  I'll save you the bother.  ** spoiler alert ** The playwright did it.

Done.

On to the next one.