Not quite On Beulah Height

Having just listened to On Beulah Height (which is brilliant) I'm holding this to the same high standard. Dalziel is a great character with some hilarious dialogue. The best feature of the books is his relationship with Pascoe, and various local Yorkshire identities. But whereas Beulah Height is a gripping character-driven procedural, this one is enjoyable enough but a bit clunky and contrived as a novel. Large chunks of it are given over the interior monologue of Dalziel (recorded as an audio diary) and the email correspondence of fairly uninteresting character called Charlie, which implausibly reads like extended chapters of a book. The device doesn't work - largely because Dalziel on the job is a lot more interesting than Dalziel off the job in personal reflection mode. Also, the casual sexism, fat-shaming, racism and homophobia becomes a bit much when given free reign in these monologues. Rather than being challenged in dialogue or balanced by a strong female character, here Charlie is just as bad in the way she fetishises her sister's black boyfriend.
The story seems to drag on a bit, and with Dalziel holed up in a spa resort, emerging in pyjamas and one slipper to keep the investigation on course, the whole thing threatens to degenerate into an English farce. The police (and the writer) have trouble staying in control of this one.

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