An Echo online sale of outlet online sale Murder: A William Monk Novel online sale

An Echo online sale of outlet online sale Murder: A William Monk Novel online sale

An Echo online sale of outlet online sale Murder: A William Monk Novel online sale

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In this riveting new William Monk novel, Anne Perry delves into the diverse population of Victorian London, whose disparate communities force Monk to rethink his investigative techniques—lest he be caught in the crosshairs of violent bigotry.

In the course of his tenure with the Thames River Police, Commander Monk has yet to see a more gruesome crime scene: a Hungarian warehouse owner lies in the middle of his blood-sodden office, pierced through the chest with a bayonet and eerily surrounded by seventeen candles, their wicks dipped in blood. Suspecting the murder may be rooted in ethnic prejudice, Monk turns to London’s Hungarian community in search of clues but finds his inquiries stymied by its wary citizens and a language he doesn’t speak. Only with the help of a local pharmacist acting as translator can Monk hope to penetrate this tightly knit enclave, even as more of its members fall victim to identical brutal murders. But whoever the killer, or killers, may be—a secret society practicing ritual sacrifice, a madman on a spree, a British native targeting foreigners—they are well hidden among the city’s ever-growing populace.

With the able assistance of his wife—former battlefield nurse Hester, who herself is dealing with a traumatized war veteran who may be tangled up in the murders—Monk must combat distrust, hostility, and threats from the very people he seeks to protect. But as the body count grows, stirring ever greater fear and anger among the Hungarian émigrés, resistance to the police also increases. Racing time and the rising tide of terror all around him, Monk must be even more relentless than the mysterious killer, or the echoes of malice and murder will resound through London’s streets like a clarion of doom.

Praise for An Echo of Murder

“[Anne] Perry fashions a rich, if blood-spattered narrative from this chapter of history. As the murders [of Hungarians] continue, Monk and his clever wife, Hester . . . struggle to fathom the new climate of hatred. ‘I think it’s fear,’ Hester says. ‘It’s fear of ideas, things that aren’t the way you’re used to. Everyone you don’t understand because their language is different, their food, but above all their religion.’ How times haven’t changed.” The New York Times Book Review

“Skillful . . . Perry smoothly intertwines themes—war’s lingering cost, tension around immigration and otherness—that challenge in both her period and our own.” Publishers Weekly

Review

“[Anne] Perry fashions a rich, if blood-spattered narrative from this chapter of history. As the murders [of Hungarians] continue, Monk and his clever wife, Hester . . . struggle to fathom the new climate of hatred. ‘I think it’s fear,’ Hester says. ‘It’s fear of ideas, things that aren’t the way you’re used to. Everyone you don’t understand because their language is different, their food, but above all their religion.’ How times haven’t changed.” The New York Times Book Review

“Skillful . . . [Anne] Perry smoothly intertwines themes—war’s lingering cost, tension around immigration and otherness—that challenge in both her period and our own. Her gritty depictions of Victorian medicine at home and on the battlefield ground the story in wrenching realism.” Publishers Weekly 

“An atmospheric whodunit, which awakens London to tumultuous, compelling life . . . This latest installment in the William Monk series resounds with the great Victorian classics, Stevenson’s  Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Dickens’s  Edwin Drood, and Stoker’s  Dracula.” Historical Novels Review

About the Author

Anne Perry is the bestselling author of two acclaimed series set in Victorian England: the William Monk novels, including Revenge in a Cold River and Corridors of the Night, and the Charlotte and Thomas Pitt novels, including Murder on the Serpentine and Treachery at Lancaster Gate. She is also the author of a series of five World War I novels, as well as fifteen holiday novels, most recently A Christmas Return, and a historical novel, The Sheen on the Silk, set in the Ottoman Empire. Anne Perry lives in Scotland and Los Angeles.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

chapter

 

 

 

1

 

 

 

“It’s a bad one, sir.” The policeman shook his head as he stepped back on the wharf, allowing Commander Monk of the Thames River Police to reach the top of the stone stairs leading up from the water. Monk moved onto the dock itself. Hooper had made fast the two-oar police boat the pair had come in and was close behind him.

 

To the south, the Pool of London was already busy. Huge cranes lifted loads of bales from ships’ holds and swung them ponderously over to the docks. The water was congested with boats at anchor, waiting their turn; barges loading; ferries going back and forth from one side of the river to the other. Black masts were a tangle of lines against the backdrop of the city and its smoke.

 

“What’s unusually bad?” Monk asked. “Who is he?”

 

“He’s one o’ them Hungarians.”

 

“Hungarians?” Monk’s curiosity was piqued.

 

“Yes, sir. Got a few of them around ’ere. Not thousands, like, but enough.”

 

The policeman led them past stacks of timber into a storage bay, then opened the door into one of the warehouses.

 

Monk followed, and Hooper after him.

 

Inside was just like any other warehouse--packed with timber, unopened boxes and bales of goods--except that no one was working.

 

The policeman observed Monk’s glance. “Sent ’em home. Only make it more muddled,” he added. “Best they don’t see any of it.”

 

“Was it one of them who found him?” Monk asked.

 

“No, sir. Didn’t know ’e was even there. Thought ’e were at ’ome, where ’e should ’a been at that hour.”

 

Monk was beside him now, keeping step across the floor and to the stairs that led up to the offices.

 

“So who did?”

 

“A Mr. Dob-- something. I can’t say them names right.”

 

“Lead the way,” Monk directed. “I suppose you’ve called the police surgeon?”

 

“Oh, yes, sir. And I didn’t touch a thing, believe me!”

 

Monk felt a chill of premonition, but he made no reply.

 

At the top of the stairs he followed a short passage, then came to a door. There were low voices murmuring inside. The policeman knocked once, then opened it and stood back for Monk to go in.

 

The room was fairly large for an office, and the light was good. Monk had seen death before. It was a large part of his job. But this was more violent than usual, and the raw smell of blood filled the air. It seemed to be over everything, as if the poor man had staggered and fallen against the chairs, the table and even the walls. Now he lay on his back on the floor, and an army rifle with its fixed bayonet was sticking up from his chest like a broken mast, crooked and looking as if it would fall awry at any moment.

 

Monk blinked.

 

The middle-aged man kneeling on the floor beside the body turned and looked up at him. “Commander Monk. Thought they’d send for you,” he said drily. “Not a job any man’d keep, if he could push it off on someone else. Place opens onto the water, so I suppose it’s yours.”

 

“Good morning, Dr. Hyde,” Monk said bleakly. He had known and respected the police surgeon for some time. “What can you tell me, other than that?”

 

“Dead about two hours, I would say. Not entirely a medical opinion. Could be longer, except that the warehouse itself was closed until six, and he hasn’t been here all night, so he must have come since then. No way in here except up these stairs.”

 

“But at least an hour and a half?” Monk pressed him. It was a tight time period, and that should help.

 

“Still warm,” Hyde answered. “And the first workers got here about an hour ago. Your friend here”--he gestured to the policeman--“will tell you that none of the men on the warehouse floor came up here. So if it was them, then they’re all in on it, lying their heads off. You could try them, of course.” He looked back at the corpse. “Looks plain enough. Bayonet through the chest. Bled to death in a few minutes.”

 

Monk looked around the blood-spattered room.

 

“I didn’t say immediately!” Hyde snapped. “And there are cuts on his hands and arms. In fact all the fingers on his right hand are broken.”

 

“A fight?” Monk was hopeful. This man was big, heavy. Whoever fought with him should have a few good bruises as well, possibly more than that.

 

“Not much of one.” Hyde pulled his face into an expression of disgust. “One man armed with a fixed bayonet, and the other apparently with nothing.”

 

“But his fist was damaged,” Monk argued. “So at least he got in one pretty good blow.”

 

“You don’t listen, man! I said his fingers were broken. All of them, and it looks intentional. Not evenly, as they more likely would be if he hit something. Dislocated and broken, like deliberate mutilation.”

 

Monk said nothing. It was conscious brutality, not the result of hot temper, more like calculated torture.

 

Hyde grunted and looked back again at the corpse. “I’ll give you the rifle and bayonet when I’ve taken it out of him, at the morgue. There is more to the wound than just this. There’s blood on all those candles over there”--he gestured to several tables and ledges--“and those torn‑up bits of paper. But none on his hands. I suppose you noticed that?”

 

Monk had not. But he had noticed that the man’s mouth was badly disfigured, and covered with blood.

 

“Is that more than just bruising?” he asked. “A punch in the mouth, against his own teeth?”

 

Hyde bent closer, and was silent for several moments. “No,” he said at last. He swallowed. “It looks like he’s knocked--or pulled--most of his teeth out. Poor fellow.”

 

“Who is he?” Monk asked.

 

The other man in the room came forward. He was of average height and ordinary build. In fact, there was nothing unusual about him until he spoke. His voice was penetrating, even when quietly used, and his eyes were an extraordinarily clear and piercing blue. He looked at Monk in a way that might have been deferential. “His name was Imrus Fodor, sir. I knew him only slightly, but we Hungarians are not so many here in this part of London that we are strangers to each other.” He spoke English with barely any accent.

 

“Thank you.” Monk looked at the man steadily. “How do you come to be here, Mr. . . . ?”

 

“Dobokai, sir, Antal Dobokai. I am a pharmacist. I have a small shop on Mercer Street. I came to deliver a potion to poor . . . Fodor. For his feet.” He held up a brown paper bag.

 

“Do you normally make your own deliveries?” Monk asked curiously. “And at this hour of the morning?”

 

“If I am not busy, yes. It is a small service. It pays in loyalty, and I do not dislike the walk, especially at this time of the year.” Dobokai’s eyes did not waver for an instant. There was such an intensity of emotion in him that Monk found it hard to look away. But if he had set out to perform a small kindness, and come in to find this bloody carnage, it was hardly surprising that he was emotionally raw. Any sane man would be.

 

“I’m sorry you had to discover this.” Monk meant it. If he found it shocking himself, what must this ordinary domestic chemist feel, when it had happened to a man he knew? But better to ask the questions now, while the memory was part of his immediate experience, than have to revisit it later. “Can you tell me what happened from the time you left your own premises?”

 

Dobokai blinked; his concentration was obvious, and intense. He managed to continue while Hyde’s assistants came in and put the body on a stretcher. They maneuvered around so as not to bump into anything, and carried the body out. Hyde followed immediately after them, leaving Monk alone with Dobokai and the policeman. Monk knew the young man would be making a plan of the building, and finding every possible way anyone could have come in or gone out.

 

“I woke early,” Dobokai said quietly. “At about six I decided to collect some of the medicines that needed delivering today. I put Fodor’s potion in a bag.” He opened another bag and showed Monk several screws of white powder.

 

“And then . . . ?” Monk prompted.

 

“I know that Mrs. Stanley rises early too. Can’t sleep, poor woman. I delivered her opium at about half-past six--”

 

“Where does she live?” Monk interrupted.

 

“On Tarling Street, right near the crossroads.”

 

“And then?”

 

“I took Mr. Dawkins his laudanum. He lives a little farther down, on Martha Street,” Dobokai replied. “Then I stopped at the Hungarian café on the corner of the High Street and had a cup of coffee and a pastry. I knew they wouldn’t be open for business here until eight o’clock, which is when I arrived.”

 

Monk turned to the policeman. “Did any of the men get here early?”

 

“No, sir, I asked them. According to what they say, they all came at the same time: eight o’clock exactly. The dead man was very strict. Bit of a martinet about time. Dock any man who was late.”

 

Dobokai interrupted. “But he very rarely kept them late, and if he did, he paid well for it.”

 

“And all the men came here together?” Monk pressed.

 

“Yes, sir, that’s what they said--all of them,” the policeman agreed. “Looks like he was killed before anyone got here. Agrees with what the doc said. Sorry, sir, the police surgeon,” he amended.

 

“But you came up here, Mr. Dobokai?” Monk reaffirmed. “Just after eight. Were the workers all here?”

 

“Yes. I . . . I went up to give him the potion, and I found . . . this.” His eyes flickered around the room, then back at Monk. He had a naturally sallow complexion, but now he looked ill.

 

“Did you happen to notice the men working downstairs when you passed them? Was there anyone you knew?” It was perhaps a foolish question, but sometimes people recalled more than they expected to, even trivia that seemed of no importance.

 

“Yes, sir,” Dobokai replied, a little color returning to his face. “There were seven men. I know them by sight, but that’s all.”

 

Monk was surprised at the exact number. “Whereabouts? Can you draw a sketch for the constable?”

 

“Two were on the big bench just inside the door,” Dobokai answered without hesitation. “One standing in the middle of the floor. And four along the bench at the back. They had tools out. Three wood saws, and the last one had a pair of pliers in his . . . left hand.”

 

“You are unusually observant. Thank you.”

 

“Not a day I’ll forget,” Dobokai said quietly. “Poor Fodor. Before you ask me, I have no idea who would have done this to him. He seemed a very ordinary sort of man to me. Lived alone. His wife’s dead. Worked hard to build his business up, and he was doing well. I think . . . I think you’ve got a lunatic here. The place is . . .” He turned around slowly, looking at the blood, the broken candles, their wicks scarlet as if they had been dipped in the dead man’s wounds. There must have been sixteen or seventeen of them, all different shapes and sizes. “What sane man could do this?” he asked helplessly. “I will help you to solve this. I know them. I will translate for you, for those whose English is not good. Anything--”

 

“Thank you,” Monk said, cutting him off. “If I need your help, I shall ask you, and be grateful for it.” He understood Dobokai’s fear, his need to feel that he was doing something, not just standing by. “First we shall speak to the men. I’ll have someone go through Fodor’s business accounts--monies due, owed, and so on. That may tell us something.”

 

Dobokai looked at him skeptically. “This is how you settle overdue debts in England? I have been here in your country for many years, Commander. Before I was in London, I was in Yorkshire. Good steel-making country. Good people. This is not business, not English business.”

 

Monk looked into Dobokai’s remarkable, clear blue eyes, and realized his error. He had underestimated this man. “No, of course it isn’t,” he agreed. “We have to go through the motions, just to exclude the possibility. But you are right. This is hatred, a terrible, uncontrolled passion to destroy. Yet I don’t want to frighten people if I can avoid it. And we must find out all we can. Looking into his business is as good a way to start as any other. It will allow us to ask questions.”

 

“I see. I see,” Dobokai said quickly. “A way in. Of course. I should have understood. Yes. You cannot tell people there is a monster loose; they will panic. I shall tell no one how . . . what a horror this is. You will ask people what they have seen, and bit by bit you will work it out.” He looked around the room again. “Such hatred,” he whispered, not to Monk but to himself.

 

Monk had the powerful feeling that Dobokai was realizing something that he had never seen before, not fully, not like this. In due course, perhaps he, Monk, would find out what it was.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Dobokai,” he said more gently. “We’ll stay here a little longer, speak to the workers, the neighbors, and see if anybody has noticed anything different. In case we need you, leave your exact address with Mr. Hooper, outside, and let us know if you think of anything further.”

 

“Yes,” Dobokai agreed. “Yes, of course.” Now he was unsurprisingly quite relieved to excuse himself and leave the awful room, escorted by the constable.

 

Monk looked around again, alone now. Everything he saw--the splashes of blood, the blood-daubed candles, two of them a dark purple, close to blue, the torn‑up paper, which looked like it might be a letter of some kind--all of it spoke of rage, absolutely out of control, almost beyond sanity. What sane man did this to another?

 

But where had such extreme feeling come from, that no one had seen it? Or perhaps they had? If he looked in the right place, surely he would find something to tell him that Fodor himself had been aware of it. And there would be others who could help, colleagues of Fodor, friends. Such hatred did not spring into being without a deep foundation.

 

Hooper came back from questioning the employees and searching the building for traces of entry or exit. He and Monk had worked together for some time now, two or three years at least. Hooper was a big man, soft-spoken, but there was a depth of both intelligence and emotion beneath his controlled manner; Monk had seen it in his extraordinary loyalty. When everyone else had considered Monk guilty of error, and worse, Hooper had risked his own life to save him, not to mention his career to defend him.

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4.5 out of 54.5 out of 5
471 global ratings

Top reviews from the United States

Jonesy
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Not bad, just not up to her standards.
Reviewed in the United States on September 24, 2017
It pains me to give any Anne Perry novel less than a five star rating and I thought about this for a while before rating it. I have been a long time fan of everything she has written and I would not want to discourage anyone from reading her work. I would suggest starting... See more
It pains me to give any Anne Perry novel less than a five star rating and I thought about this for a while before rating it. I have been a long time fan of everything she has written and I would not want to discourage anyone from reading her work. I would suggest starting at the beginning of the series and reading forward, as she has developed her characters very well along the way and placed new challenges and opportunities before them.
There are many things to like about this book. She is giving the young Scruff more scope and allowing him more of the story line as his relationship with Monk and Hester matures and deepens. She does her usual excellent job of portraying emotions and motivations and I was drawn into the story quickly, with the right amount of compassion for the nightmare ridden Fitz. However, her motivation for the crimes felt weak, which might have been solved with more explanation and the denouement, although hinted at, was not explained in a way to make it plausible.Somewhere in the last chapter, there needed to be an explanation about how the discovery was made, who made it and why it was sprung on Hester and Monk without warning Since I was reading on my Kindle I even back tracked to see if some of the pages had been dropped, but that did not appear to be the problem. I cannot explain further without a spoiler. Also, there was a description of one of the characters "lustrous blue eyes" that was repeated often enough that I became too aware of it. I admit that these might seem like nit picky criticisms and I hate to blame the writer for glitches that should have been caught by the editor. After all, these are not self published and I imagine the publisher takes an enormous cut of the profits. However, this is the only venue for voicing my frustration and let down with the resolution of the story. I will, of course, continue to read Anne Perry''s books as long as she writes, but this one was a disappointment after a what seemed like a long wait.
16 people found this helpful
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bb-girl
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Reliable Characters, but Not her Best
Reviewed in the United States on October 8, 2017
I''ve read all of Anne Perry''s books, and continue to read each new one as they come out. Each of the William Monk books, as well as the Thomas and Charlotte Pitt books, follows a familiar pattern. I read each new book because I love the characters -- in this series, Hester... See more
I''ve read all of Anne Perry''s books, and continue to read each new one as they come out. Each of the William Monk books, as well as the Thomas and Charlotte Pitt books, follows a familiar pattern. I read each new book because I love the characters -- in this series, Hester and Scuff in particular. An Echo of Murder was somewhat disappointing, because the main murderer''s identity was apparent. The motive was weak, but I guess it qualifies as enough of a motive in Victorian England. As with other of her Monk stories, this one ends with a courtroom scene. But the ending here was so sudden, I expected a little more celebration from Oliver Rathbone et.al., coupled with an appropriately intense humiliation for the smug and supercilious prosecutor. It just ended suddenly, as if Ms. Perry, finally having brought justice to the fore, had no more to say.
9 people found this helpful
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Richard C. Reynolds
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Gruesome murders in Merry Olde England
Reviewed in the United States on March 3, 2018
It’s 1870 in London and the populace is becoming more and more agitated as time goes on.  A Hungarian man has been found murdered in a most horrible way:  a bayonet impaled in his chest, fingers broken on both hands, a ring of seventeen candles burning brightly, and a... See more
It’s 1870 in London and the populace is becoming more and more agitated as time goes on.  A Hungarian man has been found murdered in a most horrible way:  a bayonet impaled in his chest, fingers broken on both hands, a ring of seventeen candles burning brightly, and a statue of the Virgin Mary covered in blood.
Commander William Monk of the Thames River Police is in charge of the case and quickly enlists the help of another Hungarian fellow to help with translation during interviews with other residents who are also from Hungary.  Monk also recruits the help of a doctor, Herbert “Fitz” Fitzherbert, with the medical aspects of the murder.  Fitz had lived in Hungary at one time and was able to speak the language fairly well.
Before much time elapses, a second Hungarian is found murdered with all the identical clues ascribed to the first murder.  Monk suspects these ritual killings are somehow related.  The reader will soon conclude that it wasn’t such a good time for Hungarians to live in London.
Fitz had served in the Crimea at one time as a battlefield surgeon.  By a stroke of coincidence, Monk’s wife Hester also served in the Crimea as a battlefield nurse and was fairly well acquainted with Fitz.  (When I read this part I thought that Fitz and Hester might have had a relationship similar to the fictional characters Dr. Yuri Zhivago and Larissa Antipov.)
There is a lot of medical activity concerned with saving lives of those severely wounded by a bayonet, knife, or some other device, and it’s gory at times.  Dr. Fitz has problems at times trying to recall where he was at certain times and what he’d been doing.  He’s even considered a suspect for the murders but his close friends think it’s not true.
The plot moves steadily ahead with a lot of excitement coming at the end in a surprise that I didn’t expect when the actual murderer’s identity is revealed.  I felt the way in which the murder was unmasked was a bit contrived but, in light of the era in which the plot was set, it was about the best the police could do.  
The book’s beginning might be difficult for some readers do get through but persistence will be rewarded when the last page is turned.
4 people found this helpful
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moderatelymoderate
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
not as disappointing as the previous book
Reviewed in the United States on March 29, 2021
While not as bad as Revenge in a Cold River (which I could give only two stars to), this book contains errors and doesn''t rise to the author''s previous standards. While talking with Hester, Monk is unfamiliar with the Spanish Armada, probably due to his forgetting his... See more
While not as bad as Revenge in a Cold River (which I could give only two stars to), this book contains errors and doesn''t rise to the author''s previous standards.
While talking with Hester, Monk is unfamiliar with the Spanish Armada, probably due to his forgetting his school days. Then not that long afterwards he remembers it perfectly while speaking with Hooper.
Then the book says Sir Oliver proposed to Hester. He DID consider proposing but decided against it.
But these weren''t things that had any bearing on the murders. The worst mistake did. SPOILER ALERT. As soon as Monk identified the killer of the first victim and the reason for it he should have looked again at those who couldn''t have committed that murder but who might have committed the others. Because the other murders were exactly like the first one including details not released to the public, only one civilian, the man who found the first victim, could have been the killer of victims 2, 3 & 4. (Theoretically Monk etc could have been the copycat killer.) The reason for the murder wouldn''t have been known without further digging, but an innocent man would have been spared a murder trial. But the book would have been too short and less dramatic without the trial.
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Chris Christensen
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Another Day, Another Monk
Reviewed in the United States on December 18, 2017
Good murder mystery by a prolific writer. Perry''s novels typically take place in late 1800''s London. This is no exception. To get the full effect and understanding of the characters, esp Monk, I recommend reading the first few novels. Monk is building his life and career... See more
Good murder mystery by a prolific writer. Perry''s novels typically take place in late 1800''s London. This is no exception. To get the full effect and understanding of the characters, esp Monk, I recommend reading the first few novels. Monk is building his life and career after losing his memory in an accident. The earlier novels help set the character''s background and thoughts; it also affects what he does on a daily basis.

In this novel, Monk is trying to find a killer who seems to have established a particular MO. Being of a historical nature myself, I quibble at the fact that the press of the period would''ve made a field day of it (like they did with the Ripper murders) and that the ancillary suspects were very thin. That''s why I rate this at 4 stars instead of 5. Perry should consider creating a few more interesting characters--maybe in the press, in the morgue, or on the river to fill out the novel better.
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sfnative
2.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Most of my favorite authors have died and I abhor the quality of ...
Reviewed in the United States on October 6, 2017
Up front I''ll say that I''ve read all the books. Why? Most of my favorite authors have died and I abhor the quality of most fiction at present. It absolutely disgusts me in terms of topic, content, lack of editing, language, sex, etc., etc. So I come to Anne... See more
Up front I''ll say that I''ve read all the books. Why? Most of my favorite authors have died and I abhor the quality of most fiction at present. It absolutely disgusts me in terms of topic, content, lack of editing, language, sex, etc., etc.

So I come to Anne Perry, but will not any longer. Simply cannot bear further repetitions of repetitions and formulaeic writing. Though some say she''s addressed immigrant issues in our society today (U.S.), I beg to differ. The issues are on the other foot.

One of my huge issues with Ms. Perry through ALL of her books is that we''re talking Victorian England here. Though the authoress appears to be athiest, are every single one of her characters? In the 19th century, most in England would be either Church of England, Methodist, Presbyterian, additional Protestant faiths, Roman Catholic, Jewish, Orthodox Church, you name it. **Yet in this book, in particular, William Monk should have made haste to the closest Hungarian Catholic church to query priests regarding the significance of the number 17, but he and Hooper did not. Why? Right - because it''s Christian. Got it.

Also, in every single one of her other books, where grief, misery, loss, horror, unspeakable acts have occurred, most in 19th century England would have turned to at least prayer and their religion. This most important aspect of life in that century is totally ignored by the authoress, in what appears to be a purposeful disdain of organized religion. At least that''s my conclusion, after spending a load of money on every single Monk & Pitt book.
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Miss Deb
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
SPOILER ! ! ! ! !
Reviewed in the United States on September 23, 2020
I''m afraid ''An Echo...'' seemed, in one way, a reversion than a progression. Scuff becomes Will, Hester is reunited with Charles... who could only become a more sympathetic individual, and Hooper and Monk work more as one . . . BUT, the evidence that clears Rathsbone''s... See more
I''m afraid ''An Echo...'' seemed, in one way, a reversion than a progression. Scuff becomes Will, Hester is reunited with Charles... who could only become a more sympathetic individual, and Hooper and Monk work more as one . . . BUT, the evidence that clears Rathsbone''s client seems a convenient and fortunate, if unlikely, discovery. . . And, certainly a reminder of an earlier and exceptionally distressing Monk novel. I also can''t help but believe I''m not the only reader who knew who was the guilty party almost from his introduction to the story. Sorry.
I don''t intend to stop reading the Monk series..... And, I do crave a Thomas Pitt now and then. They are exceptional! But, I think I will leave ''An Echo...'' out during my next William Monk marathon.
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DRob
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
An Echo of Murder
Reviewed in the United States on January 1, 2018
I''ve missed out on a few of the books in Anne Perry''s Monk series. The last one I read, Scuff was a small boy trapped in the hull of a ship. Now he''s a young man, a medical student, who adopts the name of "Will." This book deals with PTSD in a former... See more
I''ve missed out on a few of the books in Anne Perry''s Monk series. The last one I read, Scuff was a small boy trapped in the hull of a ship. Now he''s a young man, a medical student, who adopts the name of "Will."

This book deals with PTSD in a former comrade of Hester''s, a doctor she knew during the Crimean War. Hungarian immigrants are being brutally murdered in the area around the docks in what appears to be a ritualistic slaying as the bodies are found with 17 candles arrayed around them. Hester''s doctor friend is arrested and charged with the murders, and because he is so mentally distraught from his experiences in Crimea, he can''t say for sure that he did NOT kill the victims.

If the reason for the 17 candles seems to be a little far-fetched when it is revealed, and if the motive for the murders seems to be a little contrived, it''s okay, because the book is enjoyable for the character development if for nothing else. Now I just need to go back and catch up on all the books I''ve missed!
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Jane Baker
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Social issues in 1870''s London, not unlike today
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on February 1, 2019
Hungarians settled in Shadwell, south of the Thames with their traditional delicious pastries and stews in their own cafe society. But it''s an uncomfortable mix of their devout Catholicism which locals find suspicious, provoking fear, despite the fact that Hungarians are...See more
Hungarians settled in Shadwell, south of the Thames with their traditional delicious pastries and stews in their own cafe society. But it''s an uncomfortable mix of their devout Catholicism which locals find suspicious, provoking fear, despite the fact that Hungarians are the same colour but their high cheekbones set them apart, as do their accents. Resentments seem to flair from the locals even though London was very cosmopolitan at that time, as it always had been. Monk is under extreme pressure to solve gruesome murders of Hungarians at the same time as he had to calm tensions within th elocal community. Scuff, now Will Monk, is training to be a doctor with Crow and in this capacity meets Fitz Fitzherbert, an old colleague of Hester''s from The Crimean. Having been left for dead Fitz gathers the strength to survive the mass f dead bodies and limbs beneath which he has been buried and travels to Hungary, learning the language before returning to live in Shadwell. Will Monk witnesses his nightmares and delusional behaviour which cause suspicion to fall upon him. Not all is as it seems but no spoilers! Rathbone is present; his usual elegant confident self, though with some smoothing after his disgrace. Hester also becomes involved and from a long time in the past rises above her guilt to find Charles Latterly, her brother. Much research goes into these novels around London life, location of streets, medicinal potions and the whole is Perry at the top of her game.
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elliemay
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
What a fabulous series William Monk and Hester.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on January 10, 2018
I absolutely loved this book. I have now read all William Monk books by Anne Perry and much to my surprise I have enjoyed them, though one or two were rather long winded I still enjoyed them. I am now waiting for book 24 to be released and I cannot wait all I can think...See more
I absolutely loved this book. I have now read all William Monk books by Anne Perry and much to my surprise I have enjoyed them, though one or two were rather long winded I still enjoyed them. I am now waiting for book 24 to be released and I cannot wait all I can think about is Hester and Wiliam and Sir Oliver Rathbone. I am having great difficulty in settling down with a different author with different characters and a different style of writiing. I have never read 23 books one after the other by (a) the same author and (b) the same series without reading something in between as I tend to get so used to an author''s style of using words, but with Anne Perry''s William Monk series when I finished one book I had to read the next. I am reluctant to ready other series by Anne Perry as I don''t want to read about Thomas Pitt & Charlotte in case they are the same story lines. What a dilemma!!! I would certainly and enthusiasticly recommend Anne Perry and the William Monk series of books to anyone and everyone who want to be carried away to another time and era. I also envy all who are about to read their first William Monk book - you are in for a treat. Roll on September 2018 when book 24 is released. I have prebooked my copy in antisipation.
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Kernewek
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Inconsistancies
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on February 10, 2018
I usually love Anne Perry''s work, but this book frustrated me. There is a line near the beginning of the book, regarding Hester and Imogen Latterly''s (Charles'' wife) relationship, stating that Hester "never cared much for his wife" Having read all the preceding Monk...See more
I usually love Anne Perry''s work, but this book frustrated me. There is a line near the beginning of the book, regarding Hester and Imogen Latterly''s (Charles'' wife) relationship, stating that Hester "never cared much for his wife" Having read all the preceding Monk books, Imogen and Hester always seemed to have an understanding despite their differences, they laughed together in the first Monk book, and Imogen had the courage to visit Hester when she was in prison in "Sins of the Wolf" and was the only person Hester felt comfortable crying with. It would have taken very little effort to avoid this error and I thought it was sloppy. It reduced my enjoyment of the rest of the book - as did Hester''s inactive role.
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Lorraine lampon
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Echo of murder
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 1, 2018
As always, I really enjoyed reading this book. Sometimes Perry''s plots are a little convoluted and I wasn''t convinced by the reason for the crime. I tend to want a little more detail at the end.
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Amazon Customer
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Another great novel by Anne Perry
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on February 21, 2018
Another great novel by Anne Perry, the twists and turns of the plot are interesting and it brings most of the characters Anne has introduced to us into one episode.
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