The ninth volume of Simon Raven's captivating 'Alms for Oblivion' sequence is just as gripping and entertaining as its predecessors. Most of the regular characters make an appearance though this time it is Captain Detterling (renowned as the only boy ever to make a double century in a match at the revered old school they all attended) who is at the forefront.

The body brought forth is that of Somerset Lloyd-James MP, the Machiavellian schemer whose naked ambition has been evident right from the first volume. In his mid forties, Lloyd-James would appear to have achieved considerable success: having previously been editor of a leading political and economic journal he had secured a safe Westminster seat, and is now (the novel in set in about 1972) a junior minister in the Commerce Department. He is, however, found dead in his bath, having apparently slit his own wrists.

Bemused that such an amoral and self-assured (I know, I know, a dirty word) character should have found himself reduced to such a pitch of despair, Detterling resolves to investigate further, to establish what might have brought him to this unexpected end. In this he is helped by Leonard Percival, long-serving officer in the Secret Service, to ensure that any scandal surrounding the death of a serving minister can be kept to a minimum. Though initially antipathetic towards each other, Detterling and Percival soon form an effective partnership, and they investigate the various avenues of Lloyd-James's life.

As ever, the story is full of salacious twists and turns, all delivered in Raven's masterful prose. The 'Alms for Oblivion' sequence has often been compared to either Anthony Powell's 'Dance to the Music of Time' or to C P Snow's 'Strangers and Brothers'. It lacks the gravity (though also some of the pomposity) of Snow's magnum opus, and can't match the deep-laid humour and observation of Powell's masterpiece, but it stands on a par with both for its sheer enjoyment quotient. All in all, very scurrilous, but very entertaining. ( )

Finally, but only after his suicide, Somerset Lloyd-James is centre stage. The cloak and dagger investigation into the motive for his death ranges across the whole spectrum, and most of the characters, of the previous eight volumes. The account of Canteloupe’s Memorial Dinner is fantastic (in the literal sense), and reminiscent of a Fellini film. The contrast between the powerful fantasy into which Detterling is drawn and the scene when the lights come up is startling, and emblematic, perhaps, of the whole series. The ending poses a powerful moral challenge. At first reading it seemed there was no more to say, but on reflection the open ending demands a further book. I cannot wait to start reading ‘The Survivors’. This time round (second reading twenty years after the first) I have the advantage of having all ten volumes to hand. No long wait to buy the next one this time! ( )