The blurb (such as it is):

A thrilling plunge into Edwardian low-life and high-society in the first recorded adventure of Lucifer Box Esq., portraitist, dandy, wit, rake ... and his majesty's most dashing secret agent, in which he discovers who is killing Britain's most prominent vulcanologists and which tie goes best with a white carnation.

This is an appallingly dreadful book. I read five chapters and decided that I could not take any more. The author is into graphic and rather disgusting scenes of depravity, gore and rotting corpses. Five chapters was enough to turn my stomach and I will not read any more.

Since there is a second book by the same author I can only assume that he managed to sell a reasonable quantity of this book but I fancy that only gay necrophiliacs could possibly actually enjoy reading either book.

I should bin it rather than release it; I wonder if the book cemetery would give it the send-off it deserves?

RELEASE NOTES: