The Chalk Pit by Elly Griffiths
This badly written chicklit book promised us cannibals in Norwich. This book lied. An annoying hypocrite named Ruth looks into boiled bones and mysterious disappearances whilst chasing after a married man. The whole cannibal plot is dropped and the disappearances plot is resolved in ridiculous fashion. This is full of author tracts and the plot makes no sense. This has no descriptive density or pleasing sense of purpose. I felt only withering scorn for this.
“She does sometimes worry whether life as a childcarer, spiritual counsellor and dispenser of soup is exciting enough for Cathbad, the druid rebel who once stood on the henge timbers and shouted his defiance to the sea,”
“She’s pretty sure that they aren’t looking for a nutter.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“Someone with a knife,”
“Her loudly voiced opinions and general lack of tact.”
“Ruth isn’t going to be bossed about by a woman in tight trousers who thinks she’s Helen Mirren playing Jane Tennison.”