A Case of Intrigue in Islington

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at the prospect of another ‘plucky amateur solves a murder’ tale—until Freddie Pilkington-Soames nearly got himself knifed in the first act. Benson’s writing has a way of making you forget you’re reading a mystery at all; one minute you’re chuckling at Freddie’s disastrous attempt to blend in at a working-class pub, the next you’re gut-punched by a migrant’s matter-of-fact account of being treated like vermin. The audiobook’s real triumph, though, is James Langton’s performance. He doesn’t *act* so much as *inhabit*: his Freddie isn’t a caricature of Edwardian privilege but a man whose decency is constantly at war with his upbringing. The supporting cast—particularly the slithering voice he gives a corrupt constable—feels plucked from a BBC period drama, but with more grit under its nails. That said, the pacing isn’t perfect. The middle act sags slightly under the weight of Freddie’s social calls, and Benson’s habit of resolving key clues through overheard conversations (rather than deduction) occasionally feels like a cheat. The production, too, is oddly uneven: some chapters are crystal-clear, while others suffer from a faint echo, as if Langton were recorded in a bathroom one day and a library the next. But these are quibbles. When the final confrontation arrives—set in a fog-choked alley, with Freddie’s breath ragged and the killer’s voice dripping with venom—you’ll forget all about them. This isn’t just a mystery; it’s a time machine with a blade in its pocket.