Jack Blunt doesn’t know anything about bookselling. However, he knows a little about crime, having just been released from prison. Regardless, he does not know Book from Adam, so he has no idea why he was hired sight-unseen. Clearly, the Books (Gabriel and Trottie) have some kind of connection to the moody (but essentially decent) young man. Of course, Gatiss takes his time revealing their secret histories, until around the end of episode four.
In the meantime, there will be mysteries to solve, like the suicide of Harkup, the grouchy old pharmacist, which isn’t really a suicide in the first two-parter, “Slightly Foxed.” Arguably, these episodes best capitalize on the post-War setting, because the murder somehow also involves the discovery of an ancient plague pit, unearthed beneath the rubble of a London Blitz bomb-site.
“Deadly Nitrate” evokes the spirit of vintage 1940s-Cecil Beaton British movie glamor, without actually depicting any real-life stars. Instead, a fan dies from poisoned chocolates intended for either Stewart Howard or Sandra Dare, the fictional reigning sweethearts of the screen. Part one starts strong, but part two bogs down in a frustrating preoccupation with Book’s sexuality, which starts to sabotage the cozy mystery vibe.
Unfortunately, both parts of “Such Devoted Sisters” take these identity themes even further. Having temporarily fallen out with Book, Blunt accepts a position as a bodyguard for expatriate Balkan princesses dispossessed by the Communist regime. It seems their persons really did need guarding, when a caddish playboy war vet suddenly croaks after drinking a cocktail mixed for one of the princesses. However, Gatiss and co-writers Matthew Sweet and Tim Morris have far less sympathy for the refugee royals then they do for Eadie Rattle, a stridently Marxist hotel maid—even though by this time, the Soviet horrors were already coming to light.
A show like Bookish is at its best when it is light and frothy. Generally, that is how Gatiss plays Book too, emphasizing his erudition. Yet, he and the series are undermined by the intrusive class warfare and sexual orientation politics. Indeed, the concluding two-parter gets downright lectury, whereas the only social issue Bookish should fixate on is literacy.
The premise for Bookish is promising, but Gatiss never fully executes it. Very rarely do we see Team Book rummaging through his stacks for a rare volume that would expose some hidden truth relevant to the case at hand. A translation of Balkan traditional mores gets referenced in “Such Devoted Sisters,” but Book’s books are not nearly as useful or intriguing as they ought to be. Indeed, the entire series just ought to be better. Okay to start, but frustrating as it progresses, Bookish starts airing on PBS tomorrow night (1/11).