Amid the seedy glamour and big freeze of London in 1947, a murder unravels a web of deceit
About the book
London, 1947: it's freezing winter in the shabby, bomb-damaged city. Young socialite Dinah Wentworth, a bright, innocent newcomer to the Fitzrovia scene, becomes embroiled in a dark scandal when she discovers the corpse of surrealist artist Titus Mavor. Not wanting to explain her reasons for being at Mavor's flat that evening, she decides against reporting her grim discovery to the police. But her silence has terrible consequences. Dinah's husband's friend, Colin Harris, is linked to the crime and arrested on suspicion of murder. Dinah realises someone is trying to frame him and knows she must uncover the real villain before Harris is hanged. Set against the background of the Cold War, post-war shortages, and the struggling British film industry, Elizabeth Wilson's elegant noir vividly evokes the fashions and politics of a bohemian community flourishing in defiance of austerity. The Twilight Hour is a riveting thriller with a corkscrew twist.
This is an atmospheric book in which foggy, half-ruined London is as much a character as the artists and good-time girls who wander through its pages. It would be selfish to hope for more thrillers from Wilson, who has other intellectual fish to fry, but The Twilight Hour is so good that such selfishness is inevitable
A vivid portrait of bohemian life in Fitzrovia during the austerity of 1947 and the coldest winter of the twentieth century
The iciness of the winter of 1947 rises off the page to nip your fingers... [An] exciting, quirky story and a gripping evocation of an icy time
Fantastically atmospheric... The cinematic quality of the novel, written as if it were a black and white film with the sort of breathy dialogue that reminds you of Brief Encounter, is its trump card