The Camelot Caper by Elizabeth Peters
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book was cute. It wasn't cutesy, thank god, just cute. And it was much better than I honestly expected it to be. Maybe I'm a book snob--okay, no, there's no maybe about that--but in my experience, this kind of book isn't exactly the best of style and subtance, which is why I typically avoid them. There are too many books, too little time, and I don't have nearly enough patience to waste what little time I have on reading books that are essentially empty and, in the end, impart nothing to the reader.
However, I found The Camelot Caper in the backseat of my aunt's car one day and started reading it, for lack of anything better to do at the time. (The back of one's aunt's car is not, after all, a very exciting place to be.) So then, of course, I had to keep reading to find out why this broad was being chased about England. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the author is actually a decent writer. Not amazing, by any means, but decent. She writes clearly and concisely; she's brief and subtle in the right places, while in others she paints very vivid images without being too verbose, too elaborate, or god forbid, purple.
I was a little disappointed with the ending. The premise just really fell apart, in my opinion, and I had a hard time believing that either side would simply let things go that easily. I feel like maybe Peters had an idea what she wanted to do with this book, but didn't put very much thought into it beforehand, then just tried to wrap up the loose ends as well as she could at the end. However, I enjoyed all the dry, sarcastic repartee so much, and the book is so full of little humorous bits and general snarkiness, that it more than made up for the plot holes. For me, at least. And while there was, in fact, an element of romance, it was very understated and did not gross me out at all. A-plus, Peters.
All in all, an enjoyable read for when you want something quick and light, maybe on a rainy day or when you're sick in bed.
Kobra Kid, signing off.
[You can't stop the signal.]
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