Review: The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins

So, this year I’ve decided to read more classics since I have a huge list of books I wanted to read but never got to them. I started with the Moonstone which is the parent of all detective, mystery fiction in English literature.

Every human institution (Justice included) will stretch a little, if only you pull it in the right way.

The life in Devonshire was quiet, steady and quite romantic. Young miss Rachel was excited about her cousin’s Franklin arrival from his voyage in Europe and she was planning to enjoy their youth, country living, long walks and sweet conversations. However, a little detail will ruin all of those plans. Franklin brought Rachel her uncle’s inheritance; a moonstone, a beautiful and precious diamond that was stolen from an Indian temple many years ago. By the legends, the stone was cursed and brings miseries to the people who own it unless it returned to its rightful place in the temple.

Now the moonstone belongs to Rachel. As expected, the trouble rushes to knock on the front door. On its first night in the house, the Moonstone disappears. It’s up to the family, friends and a brilliant detective to find out what happened that night, who took the stone and why.

I love this book so much! Especially for the way it was written. Its style and perfect humorous dialogues were so pleasurable. It was one of the most pleasing books to read in the means of writing and language. I want to memorize this book. I mean all of it! At some point I didn’t even care about the plot and the mystery itself, I just wanted to keep reading those beautiful lines of perfect words.

The mystery was quite good though. Every time it looked like it’s about to be revealed, it gets foggy once again. I’m quite sure I was suspecting everybody at different points in the story. I think I want to re-read it already since I miss it already haha.

You are not to take it, if you please, as the saying of an ignorant man, when I express my opinion that such a book as ROBINSON CRUSOE never was written, and never will be written again. I have tried that book for years—generally in combination with a pipe of tobacco—and I have found it my friend in need in all the necessities of this mortal life. When my spirits are bad—ROBINSON CRUSOE. When I want advice—ROBINSON CRUSOE. In past times when my wife plagued me; in present times when I have had a drop too much—ROBINSON CRUSOE. I have worn out six stout ROBINSON CRUSOES with hard work in my service. On my lady’s last birthday she gave me a seventh. I took a drop too much on the strength of it; and ROBINSON CRUSOE put me right again. Price four shillings and sixpence, bound in blue, with a picture into the bargain.

Rating: 5/5

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