The Daughters of Cain by Colin Dexter**
Reading dates 05 February – 16 March 2026
Inspector Morse novels in order:
- Last Bus to Woodstock ****
- Last Seen Wearing***
- The Silent World of Nicholas Quinn***
- Service of All the Dead **
- The Dead of Jericho ***
- The Riddle of the Third Mile **
- The Secret of Annexe 3**
- The Wench is Dead***
- The Jewel That Was Ours****
- The Way Through the Woods*****
- The Daughters of Cain**
- Death Is Now My Neighbour
- The Remorseful Day****
I found The Daughters of Cain long and convoluted, as if in reality this book were two novels. Indeed, there are two – tenuously linked – murder mysteries, and the whiff of misogyny is strong, even if domestic abuse makes the crime more understandable. A lot of it is convenient (the brain tumour) and a lot of it is inexplicable (Kevin’s change in character. The consequence of this is that some of the earlier scenes feel retro-fitted. I also don’t buy Inspector Morse’s relation with Kay Ellie. He is a clever man, why would he sabotage himself so much?
Let’s hope I finish the series on a slightly higher note…
Natales grate numeras?
(Do you count your birthdays with gratitude?)
(HORACE, Epistles II)
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I don’t know, do I, Lewis? I didn’t ask. I’m not even quite sure exactly where the womb is. And, come to think of it, I don’t even like the word.’
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for Morse now read its date, ‘MDCCCCLXXXXIII’; and for a few moments he found himself considering whether any other year in the twentieth century—in any century—could command any lengthier designation. Fourteen characters required for ‘1993.’
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For me, Lewis, coincidence in life is wholly unexceptional; the readily predictable norm in life. You know that by now, surely?’
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Dead flies cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savour: so doth a little folly him that is in reputation for wisdom and honour
(Ecclesiastes, ch .10, v. 1)
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The true index of a man’s character is the health of his wife
(CYRIL CONNOLLY)
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When you live next to the cemetery, you cannot weep for everyone
(Russian proverb)
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Hate is the consequence of fear, we fear something before we hate it. A child who fears becomes an adult who hates
(CYRIL CONNOLLY, The Unquiet Grave)
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Three may keep a secret if two of them are dead
(BENJAMIN FRANKLIN)
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the two young men had also found themselves fellow members of the East Oxford Martial Arts Club.
‘Judo, karate—that sort of thing?’ Lewis, himself a former boxer, was interested.
‘Not so much the physical side of things—that was part of it, of course. But it’s a sort of two-way process, physic and mental; mind and body. Both of us were more interested in the yoga side than anything. You know, “union”—that’s what yoga means, isn’t it?’
Lewis nodded sagely.
‘Then you get into TM, of course.’
‘TM, sir?’
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Transcendental Meditation. You know, towards spiritual well-being. You sit and repeat this word to yourself—this “mantra”—and you find yourself feeling good, content . . . happy.
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‘I’ll tell you what I can’t stand, sir—the bagpipes.’
Morse smiled. ‘Somebody once said that was his favourite music—the sound of bagpipes slowly fading away into the distance.’
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Lewis!’ Morse’s voice was vicious. ‘I appreciate your concern for my health. But never again—never!—lecture me about what I drink. Or if I drink. Or when I drink. Is—that—clear?’
-=-=-=-=-=-
Greatness is but many small littles,’
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Women set apart from the rest of their kind by the sign of the murderer—by the mark of Cain.
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