Set in 1875 in Philadelphia, this historical fiction mystery has a lot going for it, and a couple of flaws. Firstly, the setup: Dr. Lydia Weston is an unmarried medical doctor and professor at Women’s Medical College of Pennsylvania. When one of her patients, a young woman who due to difficult life circumstances is working as a maid at the mansion of the Curtis family, is found drowned in the river, Dr. Weston becomes caught up in the murder investigation. Dr. Weston is notable for supporting other women striving to achieve more than the few options available to women at this time, and she feels the need to prove herself capable everyday to male colleagues, who tend to doubt, question, and dismiss her. First, let’s review the parts Mukerji got right. As a medical doctor with an interest in history, Mukerji gives us interesting background on diagnoses and treatments of the late nineteenth century, just after the US Civil War. The scene of a murder victim’s autopsy is especially interesting. I was especially struck by differences in forensics, as no fingerprinting or DNA are at the disposal of the detectives. The time period is presented with insight, as most characters have been impacted by the war in significant ways. Mukerji immerses us in the life circumstances of the period: gas lighting, horse carriage transport, lack of telephonic communications, women’s restrictive attire, dangerous labor of men, and endless drudgery of women’s work.

Unfortunately, the greatest flaw of the novel is the contrived ending, a painful flaw in that a mystery leads the reader relentlessly to the rewards of resolution and solution. The reader is a fellow detective, and she wants to see if she has arrived at a correct result. The author must move quickly, but with great clarity, unveiling the true facts while the protagonist detective, at great personal risk, makes the last bold discoveries and brings justice. Mukerji brings us to a setting we have not seen nor heard about, a Deus ex machina, that while is makes logical sense, given what we have learned about the suspects to that point, had the feeling of an abrupt and illogical shift. This was unfortunate, since the author did such a fine job of leading us up to that point.

Another weakness of the novel, which I attribute to a beginning author, is the somewhat shallowness of emotional empathy the author has for her characters. I feel more like they are chess pieces moved about logically to develop the story. She does give the world through their eyes to a degree, but we get only glimpses of their emotional life, and that we are told, rather than feeling. The old writing maxim, “Show, don’t tell.” applies here. With a master like Louise Penny, we feel the character’s feelings, we inhabit them, even if we know them briefly. Mukerji is a detailed historian, utterly faithful in rendering period details. She makes her mystery pieces click together well, slowly revealing more of the picture. We are missing emotional empathy for the characters, a quality that elevates a novel to one that remains with the reader. When you inhabit their emotional skin, the novel stays with you, and you remember characters as you would people in your life, because they become that real. I am certain that the quartet of older detectives from Thursday Murder Club truly live, as does Armand Gamache. Dr. Weston has some life to her, but Mukerji needs to develop her craft to make us feel her more deeply. This transforms characters from cardboard cutouts to living human beings.

This is a fine first effort, and a worthwhile read. I hope Mukerji keeps with it, and I would enjoy another mystery with Dr. Weston as detective.