Well, I read this. And…look, it was fine. As a whodunnit, there were a few holes in it, and it trotted out not a few cliches, but sometimes the cliches get to be that way because they’re so good that everyone wants to use them. I probably would have been less underwhelmed with this novel if I hadn’t known it was J K Rowling writing it. But I DID know. I objectively think the Harry Potter books are excellent, and perform a stunning tightrope walk: without being condescending to kids, they imbue a fictional world with a sense of wonder and Dickensian whimsy, while still managing to have a menacing undertone. Without those things, Rowling’s writing just doesn’t reach the same standard we’ve (I’ve) come to expect. I’ll probably read the second one of these (recently released) at some point, but it will be because I lack the imagination to think of something else to do.