The enormous appeal of the series rests in part on Jackson’s melancholy gallantry set against a scathing depiction of Britain in decline. But its singular greatness lies in Atkinson’s celebration of coincidence and fortuity, her wayward plots whose threads become cunningly entwined, and, not least, her mordant wit ... Wonderfully depicted characters, and their life histories sparkle with inspired bon mots and acerbic asides, but increasingly, they also seem to be substitutions for plot ... The novel itself is partly a spoof, an undeveloped takeoff on the classic country-house murder mystery. As such, it comes with the customary shoal of red herrings, a cast of characters assembled in the library and, because Atkinson is directing the action, a number of very funny set pieces ... It may be that we’re witnessing a case of series exhaustion and possibly the end of the road for Jackson Brodie. On the other hand, Atkinson’s brilliant wit, dark humor and undimmed relish for human awfulness are still very much intact and are displayed throughout.
Atkinson is an expert choreographer of parallel plots and narratives ... The charm of Death at the Sign of the Rook lies not in its ingenuity—the dual mystery is somewhat hurriedly solved—but rather in its atmosphere and its characters.
Don’t pick up Rook expecting a clever puzzle. Atkinson is capable of creating them, as she has in several Brodie books, but she leans away from that in favor of a zesty cast of characters ... A bit of a trade-off: Not as much Jackson Brodie as fans might like but, in return, we get what may be Atkinson’s funniest book yet.
There are too many characters, and it’s a bit slow. This is funny in the way that Atkinson is often funny, but the critique stands. By the time he returns, even Jackson seems attenuated. Reading about him reading about art theft is about as exciting as it sounds. The pace does pick up, eventually, and fans who stick around will get what they came for. Even when she’s not at her best, Atkinson is still pretty good.
