According to one review, Garden runs on “passion, avarice, ambition and horse-racing.” It also runs on pure 1930s octane, because this is a classic house-party murder mystery, that staple of the Golden Age. As befitting a Philo yarn, of course, it’s a very Manhattan house-party, with an actress and a socialite on hand, and a bookie on the telephone. There’s also a losing bet on the ponies, and an ensuing suicide…but Philo, natch, is not sure just who pulled the trigger. A joy, as always, for readers who delight in Philo’s spectacular brand of awfulness—is there anyone snootier? Snobbier? More taken with himself?—but also for fans of the Impossible Crime.
“Philo Vance is not quite so fond of displaying his learning as he was in the earlier stories. But otherwise he is still the same old Philo, and long may he wave.”—New York Times
Who's likely to like this: Fans of the Golden Age of Detective Fiction