Inspector Lewis can be a bit boorish at times. He is a bright man and a good detective, but his disdain for Oxford makes one wonder why he works that beat. This is about fantasy, a legitimate form of literature when posed by the likes of Dunsany, Tolkien, and Lewis. The murder here, while related to this world, is more about human to human pain. It portrays the writers as wasters of time. I thought it was a more than adequate effort.
Review of Allegory of Love
