The Goldenacre

Thomas Tallis arrives in Edinburgh tasked with proving that the Goldenacre, Charles Rennie Macintosh’s last masterpiece, has a sound provenance before it is transferred to the Public Library. Tallis’s sudden departure from his previous job and his decidedly one-sided relationship with his father, a former deputy director of MI6, give him an air of mystery.

Separately, Shona Sandison, senior reporter at the Edinburgh Post, is following up on the murder of a local artist. She is an old-school journalist, with a chip on her shoulder, a sharp tongue, and a limp. The two follow their individual paths, him finding himself blocked at every turn from actually seeing the painting, her plugging away at background information on the art world.

Seasoned mystery readers will spot where this tale is heading, and even guess the nice little twist toward the end. The plot, however, is not the driving force behind this story. That honor falls to the writing. It is the magic way oddly juxtaposed words manage to convey the essence of a scene, the feelings of a character, or the ugliness of an act, more vividly than any dictionary-precise language, that makes The Goldenacre a thoroughly worthwhile read.