The Sybil in Her Grave by Sarah Caudwell (2000)

The tax collector is knocking loudly at her door, has Julia's beloved Aunt Reg benefited from insider trading? Only noted Scholar Hilary Tamar can save the day!

Book Review:  The fourth and, sadly, final book in Sarah Caudwell's archly humorous take on the cozy English mystery, The Sibyl in Her Grave, ranks right up there with the first three -- winners all. This one is a little easier to read, the language a bit simpler, and the story is more tortuous than ever. As usual, half the story is told in letters, as the usual crew of Julia, Selena, Cantrip, Ragwort, and the suitably vague Professor Tamar look into Aunt Regina's tax problems, only to find insider trading, poisonings, and hidden identities. Here we get to see a wee bit more than we have previously of the ineffably handsome and proper Desmond Ragwort. The Sybil in Her Grave has much wine drinking, fortune telling, endless refurbishing, and more than before, love, and of course those pesky inexplicable deaths. As Professor Tamar says, "few questions are impenetrable to the mind of the trained Scholar," and members of the Chancery Bar travel from London to Cannes to Oxford to a seemingly innocent village in West Sussex as the mystery takes twists and turns and the reader chases leads that dissolve before the eyes. The Sybil in Her Grave has so many strengths, the wonderfully entertaining characters from curvy and clumsy Julia to the callow Cantrip, the very Englishness of it, and the convoluted mystery itself. But for me the greatest joy lies in Sarah Caudwell's dry humor that slips by unseen unless paying sharp attention:

"I was under the impression ... that the Church nowadays no longer believed in hell."
"We no longer believe in it as a geographical place, like Paris or Los Angeles. Not, of course, that one ever thought that it would be anything like Paris."

or,

"Daphne and I are now bosom friends. That is to say, she seems to think we are; and I do not feel that I know her well enough to dispute it."

The pages are littered with arch throw-away lines that tickle me endlessly. I did wonder about the provenance of this one, and whether Caudwell actually completed it. The first three books came out over an eight year period, but this one showed up about 11 years later, the year she died. I enjoyed The Sibyl in Her Grave as much as any of Sarah Caudwell's other three mysteries, which is to say, immensely -- right up my street! My only sorrow is that never again will I hear my beloved Professor Tamar say, "the insights of Scholarship are neither to be purchased by bribes not compelled by threats." [4 Stars]