Overview

The Honourable Phryne Fisher—she of the Lulu bob, green eyes, Cupid’s Bow lips, and diamanté garters—is the 1920s’ most elegant and irrepressible sleuth.This sparkling collection of Phryne short stories and other Phryne miscellany—including Phryne’s favourite shoes and hats, delicious cocktail recipes, and her best tips for discouraging unwanted admirers— forms a gorgeously collectable treat for all Phryne fans.Lavishly illustrated with divine color illustrations by Beth Norling, A Question of Death will bring joy to the hearts of Phryne Fisher fans everywhere.

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9781464203626

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Reviews

I have always liked - no, loved - Kerry Greenwood's series, the Phryne Fisher mysteries. Each one explored Phryne's character a little bit more so that she was always a welcome visitor in my home. I am not so sure about her latest, Murder and Mendelssohn. To my way of thinking, Phryne has revealed a bit of her character that goes a little too far for me. Understand, this is the opinion of an 81 year-old woman. I have enjoyed her sexual expressions in previous books and have at times wished I had lived with more aplomb, as did Phryne. I'm not sure if Phryne was a woman of her time or ahead of her time. The mystery which she once again investigates on her own, leaving the police in her dust, is a very intriguing one. And Phryne reveals another talent - that of singing. An amateur choir is rehearsing Mendelssohn's Elijah for a performance. Their conductor is a grave disappointment to the choir members who all breathe a sigh of relief when he is found murdered. But his replacement is no better at conducting and is soon also found dead. Not that the choir would deliberately wish anyone dead - but they are putting their hearts and souls into this performance. Phryne puts her investigative skills to work to help her dear police friend, Jack Robinson, solve the murders. She reunites with John Wilson, a man she met in the trenches in the Great War. Great sex, but he is really pining for affection from his mentor Rupert Sheffield, who proves to be a boor of the highest level. The question is whether Phryne can solve the murders as well as turn Sheffield's head in Wilson's direction. Her method of helping Wilson win Sheffield's heart is extremely unusual. While helping her friend, she realizes she will lose his expertise in the bedroom. But she feels so strongly about Wilson, she is willing to help him win his heart's desire. This aspect was definitely not what I expected when I opened Murder and Mendelsson.--Bookloons The 20th entry in Greenwood's outstanding historical series featuring the talented and opinionated Phryne (after Unnatural Habits) finds her investigating the death of a musical conductor. Music, MI6, and forbidden love mix to make an engaging case.--Library Journal Now that flapper - sleuth Miss Fisher is well advanced in her second series on ABC television, it's salutary to ponder how her parallel career in crime fiction is travelling. This is not the first time an established crime writer has had to negotiate the gap between the needs of an episodic television series and what the readers like best. P.D. James once happily observed that Inspector Dalgliesh inevitably resembled Roy Marsden after the actor first embodied her poet - philosopher hero. Ian Rankin, on the other hand, recalled getting rather drunk on a transnational trip to Australia after watching actor John Hannah, who had just optioned Rebus, in The Mummy during the in -flight entertainment. Hannah was simply not the type of Rebus that Rankin had in mind when he created his dour detective. Fortunately, Kerry Greenwood had some say in the choice of Essie Davis to portray Phryne Fisher and the actress certainly looks the part, from her neat bob as shiny as patent leather to her well- turned ankles. However, there are some significant differences between what we will see on the screen and read in the pages of Murder with Mendelssohn, Greenwood's 20th crime novel to feature Phryne. For example, there is a sex scene in the book that is highly unlikely to make it onto TV, except perhaps in an R -rated cable version. It involves one hitherto frigid gay man, one (arguably) bisexual male, and the mischievous Phryne. While Phryne's libido has always been voracious, on television she is routinely accompanied by the buttoned- down Detective Jack Robinson in a flirtatious relationship that can only work as long as it is unconsummated. On TV, Unresolved Sexual Tension rules; in fiction consummation is, in Phryne's case, both necessary and frequent. This is where the screen Phryne and the book Phryne part company. The TV Phryne is a flirt; the literary Phryne follows through and has her man, whoever that might be, exactly as she chooses. As a consequence, Phryne's erotic adventures are as much a part of her literary career as the cases she solves. There are, of course, many other pleasures to be had. Like Dorothy L. Sayers, who famously regaled her readers with a treatise on campanology in The Nine Tailors, Greenwood is not averse to some well- placed arcane knowledge; this time it's mathematics and music. Murder with Mendelssohn includes the demise of an orchestral conductor who has been stifled with quite a lot of sheets of Mendelssohn's oratorio Elijah stuffed down his throat . Not surprisingly, suspicion falls on the members of the amateur Melbourne Harmony Choir who are about to perform the piece. Phryne's investigation thus affords Greenwood ample opportunity to regale her readers with the inner workings of such choirs, as well as just how Elijah should be performed. The dead conductor, it would appear, was murdering Mendelssohn. Meanwhile, Phryne encounters an old flame, Dr John Wilson, from her years as an ambulance driver in World War I. Wilson is in Melbourne accompanying the brilliant mathematician Rupert Sheffield. The latter is in Australia to give a lecture, but appears to be the target of an assassination attempt. There's a nice moment wh en Sheffield and Phryne first meet as both perform their science of deduction according to Sherlock Holmes. `Apart from the fact that you are wealthy, have a black cat in the house, use Jicky [Phryne's favourite French perfume] and have slightly sprained your ankles dancing, I know little about you, Sheffield notes with supercilious satisfaction. Phryne, never one to be outdone, responds in withering kind. Onlooker John Wilson is amused. The brilliant Rupert Sheffield, he notes, may just have met his match. And so he has. Like her heroine, Greenwood has never been more confident and confronting, which leads to the cheering conclusion that while we might applaud TV Phryne's onscreen triumphs, the Phryne of the fiction is dancing to her own inimitable tune.--Sydney Morning Herald Patrons in the front row, beware: Orchestra conductors are dropping like flies. That clever, beautiful and sometimes-deadly sexual free spirit, the Honorable Phryne Fisher, is always happy to help her friend Melbourne DI Jack Robinson with investigations in which he feels at sea. Case in point: Widely disliked conductor Hedley Tregennis is found dead, part of the score of Mendelssohn's Elijah thrust down his throat. Before choking on the score, he'd been poisoned with morphine. At Jack's urging, Phryne joins the Melbourne Harmony Choir, which is rehearsing at the Scots Church Assembly Hall, in search of the killer. Appearing as a lecturer at the same hall is the coldly brilliant and physically striking English mathematician Rupert Sheffield, accompanied by Dr. John Wilson, who's in love with him. Adding complication, there have recently been several attempts on Rupert's life, possibly from someone with a grudge against him dating to his work as an agent and codebreaker during the war. Phryne had been Wilson's only female lover when they were both helping in a field hospital during the hellish battles of World War I. Once she renews their affair, she's determined to get the self-absorbed Rupert to understand and value John's love. In an effort to uncover the conductor's killer, Phryne cultivates the choir members and staff. When a second, equally unpopular conductor is poisoned with arsenic and the attacks on Rupert continue, Phryne enlists the help of her immediate family and diverse friends to help solve both cases.--Publishers Weekly The unsinkable flapper, Miss Phryne Fisher, returns in her twentieth Australian adventure. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson once again relies on Phyrne's sophisticated sensibilities to shed some light on a case. This time it's the murder of conductor Hugh Tregennis, who had been preparing for a performance of Mendelssohn's Elijah in Melbourne. No one in the choir seems sorry for his loss. Did one of them shove a score down his throat? Phyrne is also occupied with John Wilson, a wartime lover whose affections are usually reserved for men. He is in Melbourne accompanying Rupert Sheffield, a famed code-breaker who is on the lecture circuit. The pompous mathematician discounts Phyrne's women's intuition until her deductions help save his life and force him to admit his feelings for his traveling companion. Being somewhat ahead of her time in terms of sexual freedom, Phyrne displays an easy acceptance of Wilson's homosexuality and an understanding of the need for caution in a society that still criminalized the behavior. A must-read for series fans and a charming introduction for those who haven't yet made Miss Fisher's acquaintance.--Booklist

Now that flapper - sleuth Miss Fisher is well advanced in her second series on ABC television, it's salutary to ponder how her parallel career in crime fiction is travelling. This is not the first time an established crime writer has had to negotiate the gap between the needs of an episodic television series and what the readers like best. P.D. James once happily observed that Inspector Dalgliesh inevitably resembled Roy Marsden after the actor first embodied her poet - philosopher hero. Ian Rankin, on the other hand, recalled getting rather drunk on a transnational trip to Australia after watching actor John Hannah, who had just optioned Rebus, in The Mummy during the in -flight entertainment. Hannah was simply not the type of Rebus that Rankin had in mind when he created his dour detective. Fortunately, Kerry Greenwood had some say in the choice of Essie Davis to portray Phryne Fisher and the actress certainly looks the part, from her neat bob as shiny as patent leather to her well- turned ankles. However, there are some significant differences between what we will see on the screen and read in the pages of Murder with Mendelssohn, Greenwood's 20th crime novel to feature Phryne. For example, there is a sex scene in the book that is highly unlikely to make it onto TV, except perhaps in an R -rated cable version. It involves one hitherto frigid gay man, one (arguably) bisexual male, and the mischievous Phryne. While Phryne's libido has always been voracious, on television she is routinely accompanied by the buttoned- down Detective Jack Robinson in a flirtatious relationship that can only work as long as it is unconsummated. On TV, Unresolved Sexual Tension rules; in fiction consummation is, in Phryne's case, both necessary and frequent. This is where the screen Phryne and the book Phryne part company. The TV Phryne is a flirt; the literary Phryne follows through and has her man, whoever that might be, exactly as she chooses. As a consequence, Phryne's erotic adventures are as much a part of her literary career as the cases she solves. There are, of course, many other pleasures to be had. Like Dorothy L. Sayers, who famously regaled her readers with a treatise on campanology in The Nine Tailors, Greenwood is not averse to some well- placed arcane knowledge; this time it's mathematics and music. Murder with Mendelssohn includes the demise of an orchestral conductor who has been stifled with quite a lot of sheets of Mendelssohn's oratorio Elijah stuffed down his throat . Not surprisingly, suspicion falls on the members of the amateur Melbourne Harmony Choir who are about to perform the piece. Phryne's investigation thus affords Greenwood ample opportunity to regale her readers with the inner workings of such choirs, as well as just how Elijah should be performed. The dead conductor, it would appear, was murdering Mendelssohn. Meanwhile, Phryne encounters an old flame, Dr John Wilson, from her years as an ambulance driver in World War I. Wilson is in Melbourne accompanying the brilliant mathematician Rupert Sheffield. The latter is in Australia to give a lecture, but appears to be the target of an assassination attempt. There's a nice moment wh en Sheffield and Phryne first meet as both perform their science of deduction according to Sherlock Holmes. `Apart from the fact that you are wealthy, have a black cat in the house, use Jicky [Phryne's favourite French perfume] and have slightly sprained your ankles dancing, I know little about you, Sheffield notes with supercilious satisfaction. Phryne, never one to be outdone, responds in withering kind. Onlooker John Wilson is amused. The brilliant Rupert Sheffield, he notes, may just have met his match. And so he has. Like her heroine, Greenwood has never been more confident and confronting, which leads to the cheering conclusion that while we might applaud TV Phryne's onscreen triumphs, the Phryne of the fiction is dancing to her own inimitable tune.--Sydney Morning Herald I have always liked - no, loved - Kerry Greenwood's series, the Phryne Fisher mysteries. Each one explored Phryne's character a little bit more so that she was always a welcome visitor in my home. I am not so sure about her latest, Murder and Mendelssohn. To my way of thinking, Phryne has revealed a bit of her character that goes a little too far for me. Understand, this is the opinion of an 81 year-old woman. I have enjoyed her sexual expressions in previous books and have at times wished I had lived with more aplomb, as did Phryne. I'm not sure if Phryne was a woman of her time or ahead of her time. The mystery which she once again investigates on her own, leaving the police in her dust, is a very intriguing one. And Phryne reveals another talent - that of singing. An amateur choir is rehearsing Mendelssohn's Elijah for a performance. Their conductor is a grave disappointment to the choir members who all breathe a sigh of relief when he is found murdered. But his replacement is no better at conducting and is soon also found dead. Not that the choir would deliberately wish anyone dead - but they are putting their hearts and souls into this performance. Phryne puts her investigative skills to work to help her dear police friend, Jack Robinson, solve the murders. She reunites with John Wilson, a man she met in the trenches in the Great War. Great sex, but he is really pining for affection from his mentor Rupert Sheffield, who proves to be a boor of the highest level. The question is whether Phryne can solve the murders as well as turn Sheffield's head in Wilson's direction. Her method of helping Wilson win Sheffield's heart is extremely unusual. While helping her friend, she realizes she will lose his expertise in the bedroom. But she feels so strongly about Wilson, she is willing to help him win his heart's desire. This aspect was definitely not what I expected when I opened Murder and Mendelsson.--Bookloons Patrons in the front row, beware: Orchestra conductors are dropping like flies. That clever, beautiful and sometimes-deadly sexual free spirit, the Honorable Phryne Fisher, is always happy to help her friend Melbourne DI Jack Robinson with investigations in which he feels at sea. Case in point: Widely disliked conductor Hedley Tregennis is found dead, part of the score of Mendelssohn's Elijah thrust down his throat. Before choking on the score, he'd been poisoned with morphine. At Jack's urging, Phryne joins the Melbourne Harmony Choir, which is rehearsing at the Scots Church Assembly Hall, in search of the killer. Appearing as a lecturer at the same hall is the coldly brilliant and physically striking English mathematician Rupert Sheffield, accompanied by Dr. John Wilson, who's in love with him. Adding complication, there have recently been several attempts on Rupert's life, possibly from someone with a grudge against him dating to his work as an agent and codebreaker during the war. Phryne had been Wilson's only female lover when they were both helping in a field hospital during the hellish battles of World War I. Once she renews their affair, she's determined to get the self-absorbed Rupert to understand and value John's love. In an effort to uncover the conductor's killer, Phryne cultivates the choir members and staff. When a second, equally unpopular conductor is poisoned with arsenic and the attacks on Rupert continue, Phryne enlists the help of her immediate family and diverse friends to help solve both cases.--Publishers Weekly The 20th entry in Greenwood's outstanding historical series featuring the talented and opinionated Phryne (after Unnatural Habits) finds her investigating the death of a musical conductor. Music, MI6, and forbidden love mix to make an engaging case.--Library Journal The unsinkable flapper, Miss Phryne Fisher, returns in her twentieth Australian adventure. Detective Inspector Jack Robinson once again relies on Phyrne's sophisticated sensibilities to shed some light on a case. This time it's the murder of conductor Hugh Tregennis, who had been preparing for a performance of Mendelssohn's Elijah in Melbourne. No one in the choir seems sorry for his loss. Did one of them shove a score down his throat? Phyrne is also occupied with John Wilson, a wartime lover whose affections are usually reserved for men. He is in Melbourne accompanying Rupert Sheffield, a famed code-breaker who is on the lecture circuit. The pompous mathematician discounts Phyrne's women's intuition until her deductions help save his life and force him to admit his feelings for his traveling companion. Being somewhat ahead of her time in terms of sexual freedom, Phyrne displays an easy acceptance of Wilson's homosexuality and an understanding of the need for caution in a society that still criminalized the behavior. A must-read for series fans and a charming introduction for those who haven't yet made Miss Fisher's acquaintance.--Booklist

Author Information

Kerry Greenwood was born in the Melbourne suburb of Footscray and after wandering far and wide, she returned to live there. She has degrees in English and Law from Melbourne University and was admitted to the legal profession on the 1st April 1982, a day which she finds both soothing and significant. Kerry has written three series, a number of plays, including The Troubadours with Stephen D'Arcy, is an award-winning children's writer and has edited and contributed to several anthologies. The Phryne Fisher series (pronounced Fry-knee, to rhyme with briny) began in 1989 with Cocaine Blues which was a great success. Kerry has written twenty books in this series with no sign yet of Miss Fisher hanging up her pearl-handled pistol. Kerry says that as long as people want to read them, she can keep writing them. In 2003 Kerry won the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Australian Association.

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