This one was a bit of a toughie to read because it isn’t available in a typical digital format with flowing text. Instead I had one file of that type and two of straight scans which I read in an ePub compatible app. Actually, the scanned versions were easier to read because there weren’t any typos, something the flowing text version was riddled with because of OCR errors. Each of the three volumes was about 300 pages so it’s a long one, too, but it was worth the trouble and the time.

A note on the title - in this instance weird is a noun and comes from the word wyrd which is mostly found in the Scottish tongue and is of German origin. Not surprising considering the Anglos, the Saxons and the Jutes. Anyway, as a noun it means a person’s destiny. So in a way it’s kind of a spoiler, but there’s a lot that’s known to the reader in books like this, so it doesn’t make it less fun. Weird as a noun predates it as an adjective and the suggestion of the odd or unearthly. See, you can learn something by reading popular fiction.

As far as Victorian sensation novels go, it was a little different than usual. Yes, one of the mysteries to many of the characters isn’t one to the reader, but some were. The murders themselves are as unknown to the reader as they are to the people trying to solve them. In my previous experience with Braddon’s novels, all of the plot elements are known to the reader and we watch (helplessly) as the characters unravel various knotty problems. In this one, we have a primary amateur detective and a couple who could be considered professionals. Either way, it’s deduction and dogged pursuit that solves the crimes.

Other aspects of the story are not so surprising or different. The broken engagement for example. In this book we have more than one, but because it’s a Victorian sensation novel, we can rest assured that there will be a happy ending. I do admit to losing a bit of patience when one of the busted romances took up a lot of pages. Lots of crying and agony, letter writing and reading, and finally someone runs away to try to rebuild a life. I get why it’s in there and had to keep reminding myself whom these books were written for and why they loved stuff like that. I just wanted to get back to solving the murders.

There isn’t much doubt about the killer’s identity and our intrepid sleuth is pretty sure he knows, too. The problem is proving it. The latest murder gets connected to an old one and it’s so long past that the trail is cold. Heathcote through good sense and a lot of good luck finds old clues and puts the chain of evidence together. You have to forgive the giant coincidences in books like this; so much of the plot hinges on them and it is fun in its own way.

I’d have to do some more research, but I think Braddon should be credited more with the invention and proliferation of the detective novel. This isn’t the first of hers to feature a sleuth who solves a crime. Many credit Wilkie Collins with being the first because of The Moonstone, which while excellent, was published 8 years after Braddon’s first book which also featured a detective solving a series of crimes. Also, Sgt. Cuff doesn’t solve anything in The Moonstone. He gives up and retires to grow roses (with grass paths!). Alas, I don’t hear mention of Ms. Braddon often which is a shame because she was prolific and her work holds up today just as much as Dickens or Collins. ( )