Despite what the cover, publisher and author might suggest, this isn't a crime novel. What it is is a surprisingly open and frank discussion of female sexuality and its perceptions from almost a hundred years ago. As a cultural artefact, it's fascinating; we all know we didn't invent it, but it's still something to read about it from such a time. I'm happy to say society is a bit more accepting of unwed mothers now than it was then – although, unfortunately, I'm not sure we're where we should be when it comes to those with children by multiple fathers. As an actual engaging novel, though, it's not aged so well; I suspect our maturing sensibilities have robbed the story of some of the salaciousness that was doubtless it's main selling point. I'm sure it's one I'll think back to a lot in terms of what it taught me, but as an actual read it was a bit of a slog. ( )