Ranking the Novels of P.D. James

Phyllis Dorothy James – Baroness James of Holland Park – occupies a unique place in the history of mystery fiction. Her very first novel, Cover Her Face, was published in 1962, the same year that other Queen of Crime, Agatha Christie wrote The Mirror Crack’d from Side to Side, and though James’ debut is easily described as the archetypal country house mystery, when one reads it alongside the works of her contemporaries, it is clear that James was doing something very different within the genre. Throughout the course of her nearly-fifty-year writing career, P.D. James would champion a new kind of mystery novel: one that was built upon strong, lifelike, and deeply fallible characters, and a verisimilitude that made her novels feel true and timely. Reading a James book, one is immersed in her evocative settings, all brought to life by prose that is richly textured and dense, but infinitely rewarding.

Fans of the Golden Age of Detective Fiction may today balk at the critical comments that James would go on to make about writers like Christie and the other Queens of Crime, but to write off her novels as a result is to lose out on a body of work that deserves recognition and celebration. Well beyond the arbitrary confines of the Golden Age, James was a champion of the classic mystery; nearly all of her books predicated upon the closed circle of suspects, an act of violence shattering the tranquility of her isolated settings, and an intrepid investigator coming in from the outside to restore order. To read a James novel is to blur the line between the past and the present; even her later books have a cozy feeling of nostalgia about them and, without the references to laptops, computers, and mobile phones, they could just as easily be set in the 1960s as they could in the early 2000s. It is no surprise then that the latest series to adapt her work – the sumptuous Dalgliesh starring Bertie Carvel – has liberally altered the time and place of her novels, transporting them to the late 1970s with ease.

And to address that rift that exists between James and Christie directly, I believe that it stems from a place of fundamental difference in their approach to work. One of Christie’s defining traits was her unrivaled ability to maintain her style and standard of writing even late into her career. While her contemporaries Dorothy Sayers and Margery Allingham had quit writing murder mysteries altogether or evolved to pen more straightforward adventure yarns or psychological thrillers, Christie was still the master of the puzzle mystery until her death. James, like another Queen of Crime, Ngaio Marsh, never seemed to worry over the intricacies of her puzzle plots. Her books relied less on powerful hooks and surprise twist endings. And they are far less breezy reads than Christie too; the typical James novel weighs in somewhere north of 350 pages. I am sure that to James, to find herself endlessly compared to Christie began to feel less like a compliment and more like an albatross around the neck. I could go on speculating, but I think it fair to say that there was never any animus between James and the spirit of Agatha Christie. Christie is namechecked throughout James’ novels and, in Original Sin, James conjures up an image of the Golden Age mystery that can be nothing other than a loving homage to the progenitors of the genre she so loved:

“Sipping her whiskey, Blackie reflected that there was something strangely reassuring about Joan’s uninhibited interest in and speculation about the crime. Not for nothing was there those five shelves of crime paperbacks in her bedroom, Agatha Christie, Dorothy L. Sayers, Margery Allingham, Ngaio Marsh, Josephine Tey, and the few modern writers whom Joan considered fit to join those Golden Age practitioners in fictional murder….She stared into the leaping flames from which the image of Miss Marple seemed to rise, handbag protectively clutched to her bosom, the gentle wise old eyes gazing into hers, assuring her that there was nothing to be afraid of, that everything would be all right.”

I began my journey reading P.D. James in the dark days of the Covid-19 pandemic. During lockdown, I sought to broaden my understanding of the mystery genre beyond titles penned by perennial favorites like Christie or John Dickson Carr. While not all of those attempts were great successes, there was a hypnotic quality to James’ writing that was unlike anything else that I had read before. Her entire canon demanded to be read. In that time, James has had a profound influence on me as mystery lover and writer. I strive to match the power of her prose in my own work; to create memorable, realistic characters, and create settings that are unique and as carefully curated as her own. Now four years later, I am almost done that initial read-thru. True, I have not read her science fiction tale, Children of Men (I’m a big fan of the film) or Death Comes to Pemberley, equal parts murder mystery and love letter to Jane Austen. However, included below is a ranking of her most celebrated mystery novels featuring Adam Dalgliesh and Cordelia Gray each accompanied with an image of their first edition cover art. This ranking is based on my first-time reading all these novels and this list could be very different in a year, a week, or even a few days from now!

It has been a pleasure reading and savoring these books over the past few years and, as you shall see, there are several I am anxious to revisit soon!

The journey has only just begun.

***

No. 17 – The Lighthouse (Dalgliesh 13) (2005)

This novel feels perfunctory; like the best bits of other, better James books, simply not done as well. The offshore island setting recalls The Skull Beneath the Skin; the lighthouse and its metaphorical representation of past sins plays the same role as that of the titular Black Tower. The characters, though isolated and given time to be built-up, do not resonate the way the bet of James’ creations do and, Dalgliesh, sidelined here after he falls ill with SARS, also fails to make as strong an impression. James’ prose is, of course, as strong as ever, but I failed to find myself gripped by The Lighthouse from start to finish.

No. 16 – A Mind to Murder (Dalgliesh 2) (1963)

I feel sort of bad putting this title down here as I clearly need to revisit it. As it is, A Mind to Murder hardly stands out at all for me to the extent that I cannot remember much about the characters, their various motivations for the murder, or, indeed, who is responsible! While all of James’ books have become nebulous in my memory after a certain period of time, I remember a great deal about nearly all of her books except this one. As usual, the setting is the strongest thing about it; the psychiatric clinic being a strong backdrop for murder, but even Dalgliesh – who is going through a personal crisis while undertaking the investigation – fails to make much of an impression. This could be the perfect exemplifier of a sophomore slump, but I hope that my opinion is turned around some when I reread this book again very soon. Stay tuned!

No. 15 – The Private Patient (Dalgliesh 14) (2008)

In the same way that The Lighthouse felt like it was a “Greatest Hits” of the earlier Dalgliesh novels, The Private Patient, the final novel in the Adam Dalgliesh series, is similarly evocative of James’ earlier works. The clinical setting harkens back to Shroud for a Nightingale and A Mind to Murder; the simplicity of the murder itself reminds me of Cover Her Face; and the suspects populating a series of cottages is reminiscent of Death in Holy Orders. However, unlike The Lighthouse, I actually felt more engaged in the mystery this time around, even if the murder doesn’t occur until nearly 100 pages in, and the killer revealed earlier than usual. It is nice to see Dalgliesh and the team on good form in this final outing and the subplot of his impending marriage does not feel intrusive on the murder narrative. Though the novel was not James’ last, its final lines are especially poignant; the perfect summation of her ethos not simply as a mystery novelist but a writer at large and a human being: “The world is a beautiful and terrible place…If the screams of all earth’s living creatures were one scream of pain, surely it would shake the stars. But we have love. It may seem a frail defense against the horrors of the world, but we must hold fast and believe in it, for it is all that we have.”

No. 14 – An Unsuitable Job for a Woman (Cordelia Gray 1) (1972)

I know that there is great fondness for this book and there are elements of it that have resonated with me. James’ evocation of Cambridge is beautiful and I reveled in the scenes that depict Cordelia in and around the academic buildings in the university city as she makes enquiries into the suspicious death of a young man. There are other well-rendered scenes including a rather harrowing set-piece in a well, but ultimately An Unsuitable Job for a Woman stands out to me better as a time-capsule of 1970s Britain (one of my favorite things about reading James is her descriptions of the times in which they were set) than it does a mystery novel or indeed a crime story. There is a dirty and grimy sensibility to this book from the opening, shocking suicide of Cordelia’s boss and mentor, to the morally duplicitous interview she has with a cameoing Adam Dalgliesh at the conclusion. Yet, in between, my attention wavered and I failed to grasp onto Cordelia as strongly as a protagonist as I did with Dalgliesh. Perhaps I ought to give it another reading, but there are plenty of other James novels I would rather have another go at first.

No. 13 – The Black Tower (Dalgliesh 5) (1975)

I find myself pretty lukewarm on this book and without much to say. Perhaps the greatest disappointment is the lack of sense of place; one of James’ greatest strengths as a writer. The manor house of Toynton Grange is rendered without the same detail to which I have become accustomed in her novels and the characters, though expertly drawn as usual, do not leave much of an impression. A morbid book, dwelling heavily on the illnesses and infirmities of the nursing home patients, The Black Tower is also a weak mystery. The central murder does not happen until late in the story and Dalgliesh’s investigations feel underdeveloped – the fact that he is not acting in an official capacity surely part of the reason here. The action in the book’s final chapter is, however, very strong.

No. 12 – Death in Holy Orders (Dalgliesh 11) (2001)

James’ first novel of the twenty-first century feels no more modern than any of her other books save for a few references to mobile phones and computers. That may be entirely intentional for the setting of the novel, St. Anselm’s theological college, is one of the most revered and centenarian of any in James’ canon. This setting allows James to wax philosophically on one of her favorite subjects – the role of religion in the modern world combating technology and progress – and Dalgliesh, visiting St. Anselm’s with fond memories spending his boyhood summers there, is on fine form investigating two suspicious deaths before the first murder has even taken place. It is slower-paced than some of James’ other books and more loosely-plotted – the final murder especially feels thrown in simply to pad out the wordcount – but it is not without its charms, quirky characters, and evocative writing.

No. 11 – Devices and Desires (Dalgliesh 8) (1989)

Devices and Desires seems to owe a debt to The Black Tower and presages Death in Holy Orders in many interesting ways. This is a big book and complex with one of James’ largest cast of characters set in and around a nuclear power station in East Anglia. In James’ typically profound prose, the monolithic presence of the station on the headland is deeply felt and she is able to juxtapose the power of modern society with the earthy inhabitants of the rural seaside community. Though the first third of the novel is centralized around a serial killer known as The Whistler, Dalgliesh’s role here is his most hands-off. He never does any investigating acting merely as a participant in the titular devices and desires of the large cast. If Dalgliesh were not such a compelling protagonist, I would have my qualms about the detective of a detective novel not doing much detecting, but as the book also positions itself more as a human drama than a pure mystery, I understand what James is doing here. It is not my preferred cup of tea and with a more diffuse plot than most, I doubt that it will ever be a favorite of mine, but I can appreciate what James has done.

No. 10 – The Skull Beneath the Skin (Cordelia Gray 2) (1982)

Though Cordelia Gray continues to prove herself an elusive protagonist for me to really understand, I found myself enjoying this book a lot more than her debut outing. What really works here is – of course – the setting. The novel is set on the fictional Courcy Island off the Dorset coast and in the castle owned by an eccentric with an interest in Victorian theatre. As such there is a real sense of Gothic atmosphere lingering over the book and, as James’ only embarkation into the theatrical world of Ngaio Marsh, I felt a real connection with the material. The references to Shakespeare and particularly Webster, whose play The Duchess of Malfi becomes a focal point of the narrative, were extremely pleasing and the pool of suspects, though large, are all rendered extremely well; the ailing theatre critic a real highlight. As was the case in An Unsuitable Job for a Woman, the world of the Cordelia Gray books (of which this was the last) seems a little more morally ambiguous than the Dalgliesh mysteries with an ending that is rather unsatisfying if one is looking for justice to prevail and rights to be wronged. As such, the plotting feels weaker here than in James’ best; the motive for murder being a real disappointment, but The Skull Beneath the Skin compensates in a number of other ways.

No. 9 – The Murder Room (Dalgliesh 12) (2003)

James’ interest in true crime becomes a central focus of The Murder Room; the titular room a reference to a grisly exhibit at the fictional Dupayne Museum on Hampstead Heath. As usual, evocation of place is particularly strong with the museum and the surrounding grounds beautifully described even if they lack the foreboding presence of better books higher up on this list. While the Dupayne honors the years between World Wars, there is something reflective of mystery’s Golden Age about The Murder Room. With only a few extraneous characters rounding out the cast, this a tighter and more focused closed circle mystery than James had penned in some time and, as such, Dalgliesh assumes a more prominent role. His investigative duties take up the bulk of the narrative and his ongoing romance with Emma Lavenham (introduced in Death in Holy Orders) does not overly distract. If there is a key weakness to this book it is the perfunctory finale with a distinct lack of material clues. When the BBC adapted the novel in 2004, they cleverly solved this issue.

No. 8 – Innocent Blood (1980)

Certainly the biggest surprise for me, I went into Innocent Blood with uncertain expectations. Only one of a few standalone novels in her career, Innocent Blood is not a mystery or a detective story, but a thriller more akin to the type of crime novel penned by her friend and contemporary, Ruth Rendell. The novel’s inciting incident – Philippa Palfrey seeking out her birth parents - uncovers dark secrets of the past when it is revealed that her parents were involved in the assault and murder of a young girl. A web of intrigue and suspense is revealed when we discover Philippa’s mother is to be released from prison and the young girl’s father is out to exact his revenge. Watching these two plotlines spin themselves out, slowly beginning to overlap, was enthralling, thrilling stuff. Though the plot progresses at a leisurely pace, seldom has James’ ability to get inside the heads of her characters worked better, making even the most mundane of scenarios the impetus for a suspenseful set piece. If only the book’s final chapters concluded in as exciting of style. But the journey was well worth it in the end!

No. 7 – A Certain Justice (Dalgliesh 10) (1997)

One of the first James novels I read, A Certain Justice perhaps ranks a little lower than it ought to in that I was not yet accustomed to her style of writing and approach to the mystery genre. Like A Mind to Murder, it warrants a revisiting. Until then, I can say that A Certain Justice stands out as one of the more complex mystery plots in the James canon with a number of divergent plot strands coalescing into an intriguing if not wholly believable narrative. I like the exploration of the English justice system that James does here and her description of the barrister’s chambers is strong as are the characters populating it. Reviewers at the time called it “vintage James” which feels right. If there was a book that sums up what James contributed to the mystery genre, A Certain Justice might be the very best example of that and perhaps also explains why it is placed where it is on this list.

No. 6 – Cover Her Face (Dalgliesh 1) (1962)

The first Dalgliesh novel and James’ first novel overall, Cover Her Face, at times, feels like an exercise in archetypes. The large manor house, the weekend gathering, the duplicitous servant, the complex web of romances and relationships are all staples of the classic detective novel. Right away though, one feels James’ unique stamp on the genre with her deeply-realized characters standing out immediately. It is the core group of suspects that makes Cover Her Face such a memorable read and they take center stage throughout with Dalgliesh, in his debut outing, something of a peripheral cipher. In this way, the novel feels more in line with the work of Christianna Brand (whose own detective Inspector Cockrill lurked on the outskirts of her plots and allowed the suspects to do the finger pointing) than the beloved Agatha Christie and though James herself would later critique the book for being too traditional, this is the book that the appreciator of the classic mystery novel will probably enjoy the most.

No. 5 – Unnatural Causes (Dalgliesh 3) (1967)

James’ first novel to be set on the English coast, the desolate headland of East Anglia would become just as much a recurring character in her works as Adam Dalgliesh and many of the themes and motifs explored in Unnatural Causes – most memorably the encroaching sea that has already swallowed up coastal villages – would reappear in her later books. The artistic, writerly community that populates Unnatural Causes feels unique for James and, even if the characters do not stick in the mind as well as her others, there is an aura of evil and villainy that lingers from the first page of this book describing the corpse of a man with no hands adrift in a boat on the ocean. James often called Dorothy L. Sayers her major influence as a mystery writer and that influence is strongest felt here with the novel's harrowing, apocalyptic ending recalling a similarly tempest-tossed finale in Sayers' The Nine Tailors. It’s a solid read and one of the stronger mystery plots from the first part of James’ writing career.

No. 4 – Death of an Expert Witness (Dalgliesh 6) (1977)

I think of all the James’ books I have read; this is the one to which I was glued the fastest. In many respects it represents a pinnacle in the first part of her writing career. Until the 1980s, James’ books worked as purer expressions of puzzle mysteries; the world of her books populated by psychologically-rich characters without ever feeling one aspect of the writing was more important than the other. Death of an Expert Witness strikes that perfect balance and feels like another of James’ deliberate homages to Dorothy L. Sayers. In the same way that Sayers weaponized the hallowed corridors of academia in her mystery fiction, James does the same with her firsthand knowledge of a forensic laboratory-turned-crime-scene. The more literary-minded James reader will, perhaps, not find as much going on behind the eyes of Dalgliesh and his team this time around, but the setting compensates and the jargon of the forensic team informs and entertains. I wish there was a more action-packed finale in the vein of James’ most exciting endings, but, then again, the emotional toll that this story takes upon its cast (and particularly the murderer) may have made such a set-piece feel out of place.

No. 3 – Original Sin (Dalgliesh 9) (1994)

In the same way that Death of an Expert Witness feels like the perfect amalgamation of mystery plot and literary novel, Original Sin does much the same but comes with a nastier bite and more nuance from a writer who has allowed her craft to age like a fine wine. Set within the impressive corridors of Innocent House, a mock Venetian palace on the Thames, the book has a very strong sense of place and, as Innocent House is the headquarters for the Peverell Press, James uses firsthand knowledge of the publishing world as the backdrop for a serious of gruesome suspicious deaths. Dalgliesh takes a backseat here to the machinations of his subordinates Kate Miskin and Daniel Tarrant whose personal and private lives become entwined in the murder investigation. I wish, perhaps, that there was a little bit more time taken in the construction of the plot. There are very few clues and the killer is captured once they start acting singularly sloppy, but when reading the novel, I did not mind. This is one of those James novels where certain passages continue to resound in my head. It is a testament to the strength and the power of her writing.

No. 2 – Shroud for a Nightingale (Dalgliesh 4) (1971)

For a long time this was my favorite James book; an excellent distillation of what makes her such a unique mystery writer. On reflection, the novel does perhaps feel like something of an outlier. The characters are not as well-drawn as some of her others, but this is compensated for by a stronger-than-usual mystery plot. Uniquely, James said that she concocted the plot and the opening shocking murder first when plotting the story and that hook remains one the best in her catalogue of titles. Dalgliesh’s introduction to the novel is delayed but once he arrives on the scene, we seldom leave his side as we are taken through the minutia of the murder case; the bureaucratic procedure of murder investigation always one of James’ strengths as a writer. On this occasion that is also coupled with her in-depth knowledge of hospital procedure and the environment of the nursing school is beautifully evoked. Like Original Sin, there are passages in Shroud for a Nightingale that have lingered with me ever since I first read it. They remain some of James’ best writing capturing the strongest sense of place. Of all her books, this is the one I always have a hankering to revisit.

No. 1 – A Taste For Death (Dalgliesh 7) (1986)

Since A Taste For Death habitually tops the list of James’ titles, I wish for once that I could be a contrarian and offer up another one of her books for the number one spot. But the fact of the matter is A Taste For Death is an astounding, epic work. I use the word epic deliberately. One of the few books in James’ canon that does not focus itself on one location, the city of London is the background for this exceedingly complex story. Yet, for how large a scale on which James is operating here, the story is still shockingly intimate. We get to know all of the characters inside and out including that of the murderer who – somewhat unusually for James – is an out-and-out psychopath. Dalgliesh’s partner, Kate Miskin, makes her first appearance in this novel and she instantly becomes a compelling, morally grey figure who manages to feel multifaceted in a way that Cordelia Gray never did. Perhaps A Taste For Death is less successful as a detective story than it is a saga of crime, but I have found that James is often at her best when she dispenses with the traditional mystery story palaver and focuses on the crime itself, the participants in the drama, and the consequence of those actions. The final few chapters of this book are blistering in their intensity and remain some of the most gripping in James’ entire series.