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Given the astonishing length of the writing career of PD James (her first novel was published in 1962), it is perhaps not surprising that her work often consciously refers back to an earlier era of British crime writing -- but it's none-the worse for that. In fact, James' clever and affectionate reinventions of the devices and conventions of that era afford a particular pleasure -- as is the case with her latest, The Private Patient.

Uncompromising investigative journalist Rhoda Gradwyn has booked herself into the Chandler Powell private clinic in Dorset. She has decided to remove a disfiguring facial scar, and is looking forward to what she hopes will be a new life after the surgery. But Rhoda will not leave the clinical alive – she is killed. After her murder, Commander Adam Dalgliesh is summoned to investigate. As he begins to examine suspects, scene and motives, a second death occurs, and Dalgliesh finds himself faced with one of the most complex and challenging mysteries of his career.

In many ways, The Private Patient has the structure of a novel from the golden age of crime fiction, and James is well aware of the very best writing from that era (including Cyril Hare, who James succeeded as premier crime writer for her publisher, Faber). Needless to say, she freights in a very modern level of psychological investigation, more penetrating than that of her great predecessors. If the novel seems less initially engaging than other recent work by the author, there is perhaps a subtle agenda here: James is avoiding the more obvious reader-grabbing tactics to present a low-key investigation of character than she has chosen to deal with in recent books. If a little more patience is required than usual, the result of this understated approach pays dividends. And admirers of James (and her doughty detective Dalgliesh) will be prepared to be flexible for the pleasures of the cogently handled narrative here. --Barry Forshaw

I always read each of P D James's books as it is published and quickly come to the same conclusion each time: although her books are well-plotted, she has a rare talent for populating them with characters that it is very difficult to relate to, whom we never really get inside the skin of, and who are universally dislikeable.

Dalgliesh, Miskin and Benton are far too cold and clinical - they either spend time focussed 100% on the case or else they ruminate on their personal lives in isolation. We never see them let their hair down, enjoy themselves or exchange the odd irreverent or humourous comment that is the difference between a robot and a human being.

Maybe the only poignant moment is when the potential suspect whose car was seen near the standing stones is recounting events that happened many years ago, concerning a modern-day character and her sister. I'm being a bit vague here to avoid spoiling the plot, but anyone who's read the book will know what I mean.

At least the last few Dalgliesh books have had the added dimension of the relationship between Dalgliesh and Emma Lavenham, but as with so much of James's writing, it comes across as relationship-by-numbers.

And P D James leaves one crucial question unanswered: why does the victim say that she "no longer has need for" the scar that is removed by the surgeon at the clinic? If James had no intention of answering the question, why did she make her character utter this irrelevant throwaway line in the first place?

Give me Frost, Morse, Wexford, Banks or Diamond any day: they are interesting characters whom I could happily spend an evening chatting to over a glass of wine or a pint of beer. I fear that an hour in Dalgliesh's company would pass very slowly and be exceptionally tedious.

Adam Dalgliesh fans will feel wonderfully rewarded by a deep and long look at his work in diligently investigating this case while attempting to balance his life to leave room for his love of Emma Lavenham. You'll end the book wondering about how that balance might change in future books. These thoughts in many ways make for a better mystery than solving the murder.

The Private Patient is more about love, its effects, and the harm it costs to not receive and give it . . . than about crime, detection, or justice. As with The Lighthouse, Baroness James has created deeply etched new characters while turning her on-going characters into ever-more real seeming personalities.

While many novelists are only too quick to paint a victim as harmless or harmful and bump them off, Baroness James gives us a complex portrait of a woman, investigative journalist Rhoda Gradwyn, whose youth scarred both her face and her psyche. As a result, she uses her slashed face as a mask to hide behind . . . and to keep people away on her own terms. She becomes good at ferreting out the secrets of others and displaying those hidden scars for a large pay day.

With the death of her abusive father and her mother's plan to remarry, Gradwyn realizes she doesn't need the scar any more and seeks one of the most expensive and highly regarded plastic surgeons, George Chandler-Powell, to repair her face. But she decides that there might be stories involved, and her meddling brings forth counter forces that lead to her death.

Strangled in her patient suite, steps from the nurse's bedroom, it begins to appear that an insider is involved. But no one remembers meeting Gradwyn before. What's the motive?

AD is dispatched to work on the case shortly after a call comes from number ten. Why is this case so important?

The murderer wore gloves so forensic clues aren't going to solve this case. Carefully examining opportunity and motive should narrow down the list of suspects. But more events occur faster than AD can untangle the clues he uncovers. As a result, the book is more of a crime story accompanied by a police procedural where the detective trails the killer too slowly rather than a classic mystery in which the brilliant detective solves everything by pulling a rabbit out of the hat.

The story is a gripping one involving lots of memorable characters, sympathetic and unsympathetic motives, and damaged personalities ill equipped to deal with human stress and conflict. To me, the best crime and mystery books are as well developed and interesting as a well-written novel . . . independent of the mystery. By that standard, this is an excellent book.

I found it annoying to have the police investigation be so ineffectual. It made the book seem a bit pointless in a way. I graded the book down one star to express by disappointment in this regard.

You, however, may not mind . . . in which case this will be a clear winner for you.

I was really looking forward to reading the latest offering from P.D.James and settled down to enjoy her latest mystery. The plot surrounds the death of journalist, Rhoda Gradwyn, who is booked into Mr Chandler-Powell's private clinic to remove a disfiguring scar. Commander Adam Dagleish and his team arrive at the clinic to investigate the murder. All the ingredients are there for an enjoyablable read - the familiar characters, atmospheric setting, characters who have secrets to hide and a murderer to be exposed.
Unfortunately, I was disappointed as I found the story very slow moving. it didn't help that I worked out the name of the murderer about half way through the book. I think the problem was that the character of Adam Dagleish has become very robotic. Suspects and his team make comments and he listens but he seems so passive that I felt his presence was very weak. In the novel 'To The Lighthouse' he was portrayed as a human being, especially when he became ill but in this novel he seemed to be fading out of the action leaving a lot of questioning to his team.
He does have a girlfriend but even in the scenes with her, he reacts in a wooden manner. When she arrived with a tale of woe, he speaks to her in a cold manner as though they were strangers.
In fact many of the characters are discreet, quiet individuals and I must confess I did keep getting the female occupants at the Manor confused with one another. Even the murder victim is a very private person.
The story did leave me with lots of questions and P.D. James uses the end of the novel to try and tie up lots of loose ends which led to a boring end to the story. In the end I did not care who had committed the murder and I only partly understood the fire incdent at the standing stones.
Having said all that, I have enjoyed all the previous P.D. James's books and there is a lot in this story for people to enjoy so I've given it three stars. I hope you will follow the plot a little better than I did.

I wish I could give 5 stars to this, probably the last PD James mystery featuring the stalwart yet sensitive Commander Adam Dalgleish. Most of the book was 5 star material, with the winning PD James formula of isolated setting, cast of improbably named suspects, a gruesome murder or two, and meandering setting description with words like "minatory", "gule" and "subvention" cropping up early and often to establish once again the author's literary bona fides. (Emma wears not a jacket, but a jerkin, as we are reminded three times in three pages.) The final 80 pages were however a disappointment, a rushed flurry of events, interviews with newly found characters appended in too-neat resolution. The ending seemed hardly connected to the build-up that preceded it. If a mystery lacks a satisfying conclusion, all the previous story-telling seems futile. Sorry to say, I have seen a loss of momentum in PD James's last several mysteries. She takes pains to keep up with the times, but her unnecessary subplot about lesbians is so painstakingly tolerant, so jarring, so entirely lacking in narrative reality. The effort to be open-minded is always just that - an effort, and the display of faux acceptance self-consciously calls attention to itself because it rings false and extraneous to the story. Poor Dalgleish, as I remember from earlier novels, was always more interesting as a solitary poet/police officer. Since he acquired a continuing romantic interest, the incongruously young Emma Lavenham, he has become too comfortably uxorious. His depth has dissipated. The detective sidekicks, Miskin and Benton, while again politically correct, are never as interesting as was Dalgleish at his philosophical best. Dare I add that the dialogue is simply not believable? Only in a PD James novel do characters speak in such perfectly shaped paragraphs.

Beautifully written, but as far as the story goes I couldn't have cared who did it as the plot was so unreal and in one glaring obvious way the culprit gave themselves away. Too many unanswered questions - why did she want the scar removed, why did she refuse to see anyone when there was the suggestion of a prearranged meeting?