I don't know enough about history to notice anything other than a few historical inaccuracies, but the whole structure of DaVinci Code drove me nuts. Way too many obvious misdirects, way too much time spent on useless stuff, way too obvious a "twist" at the end is it still a twist if it's something that's introduced as a possibility about 20 pages in and then dismissed with an "explanation" that a five-year-old could find holes in, then introduced again 20 pages from the end as if it's an entirely new idea that no one had ever considered? Also, the way that the first 20 or so chapters ended with something like, "He knew the answer to her questions, but that would have to wait until later..." I'm fine with suspense, I'm fine with the characters having more information than the reader. But the author taunting the reading with information like that is just annoying. Once is fine. By the time it had happened 20 times, I'd figured out most of what it was, and the "big reveal" wasn't terribly interesting at all.

Loving justkim.

It seemed like you picked each word to convey the maximum amount of information possible. I wish I could explain it better.

That's the best explanation - it's why I don't do epics. I like words that act like freight trains; carrying as much as possible. Cleaner that way, for me, anyway.

Is there any recording of the music available?

Oh, you betcha, and for all the books to follow.

For the title ballad of Weaver, the ultimate version belongs to Steeleye Span, sung by the divine Maddy Prior, on their album Parcel of Rogues.

The second book (focussing on Penny) shares a title with Martin Carthy's drop-dead chilling ghost-kissed version of "Famous Flower of Serving Men", off his Shearwater CD. Ringan is slightly sorta kinda based on Martin. Loosely.

And the third book is a take on a very famous song, covered by quite a few people, including Joan Baez. But my favourite version of "Matty Groves" is from Fairport Convention's Liege and Lief CD.

The fourth one, Cruel Sister, will depend on how the first ones do...

But I'm glad you liked it. The music is sublime.

But the author taunting the reading with information like that is just annoying.

I hate books that every character in the book knows what is going on, but the reader does not. Ttell me already! And you know the whole reason they're keeping you in suspense is to keep you reading, because otherwise, you wouldn't finish the book...at least for me it's that way.

I hate books that every character in the book knows what is going on, but the reader does not. Ttell me already!

There is a Peter Wimsey mystery (sans Harriet Vane) that pulls this about three chapters in, just after the discovery of the body. Peter and the police are studying the scene of the crime, a windy hillside out in the middle of nowhere, and he asks the inspectors several questions, which portion of dialogue Sayers describes in full, and then ends with something along the lines of "Then he asked a question which the alert reader must already have guessed, and took careful note of the very important answer, with which I will not trouble the reader as it is no doubt already terribly clear [I'm paraphrasing the fuck out of poor Ms. Sayers here, but that's the gist of it]."

Well, it isn't terribly clear to me. It never has been. I've read the first four chapters of that book (I want to say Five Red Herrings but I'm not completely sure) half a dozen times and I still have no idea what perfectly logical question Lord Peter asked, nor what obvious answer he got, and I always drop the book about one chapter later, overcome with the simultaneous convictions that this is the most irritating book ever and that I am the greatest dunce in mystery-reading history.

(I want to say Five Red Herrings but I'm not completely sure)

I. HATE. Five Red Herrings. Only that wretched thing with the Russian Royal Family and the false blood clue pissed me off worse.

It's one reason I prefer Ngaio Marsh. I can't think of a single Roderick Alleyn in which she pulls that.

Sherlock Holmes had a nasty habit of having recognised the scent of the tobacco as one only smoked by lefthanded men from Berlin on alternate Tuesdays.

A completely inadequately described scent, it always seemed.

Sherlock Holmes had a nasty habit of having recognised the scent of the tobacco as one only smoked by lefthanded men from Berlin on alternate Tuesdays.

And then he wrote a short monograph on the subject, the berk. Would you expect any better from a junkie?

But at least those descriptions were filtered and therefore blameable on that twit Watson.

I love Ngaio Marsh, but you do begin to wonder why anyone would go to the theatre with Roderick Alleyn.

I am completely irrational on the subject of Sherlock Holmes. Watson is not a twit. He is Everyman observing Genius. He is pretty damn fuzzy about that Afghanistan injury, though.

Ginger, I'm nuts for Sherlock Holmes - I keep thinking I could do what Irene Adler couldn't, which is break him and ride him like a Lippizan. And I'm actually very fond of Watson. But I'm a gamma type myself, apparently, so my whole thing with sidekicks is a bit clueless.

And BWAH! on the theatre-with-Rory deal. Too true. Especially if it's the Scots play.

I have reread all of Sherlock Holmes probably 15 times. I'm thinking about doing it again.

I do have a Sherlock Holmes story. I have an unusual last name. When I was in an English graduate seminar, someone asked what kind of name it was. I said my great-grandfather had come from Bohemia. One student gasped and said, "A Scandal in Bohemia. I thought that was a made-up country."