Well, this always goes to show you that you can't always judge an author by one book.
I was hugely disappointed with Death Is Late to Lunch (1941), by Theodora DuBois, to a great extent because of the unbearable snobbishness of the author's narrator and sleuthing couple half, Anne McNeill, about whom, in homage to Ogden Nash (Philo Vance/Needs a kick in the pance), I composed this immortal couplet
Needs to get real.
Anthony Boucher called DuBois' Death Comes to Tea "a small masterpiece," however, and on Goodreads the discerning Lisa Kucharski gave this novel five stars; so I felt I should give DBbois another go. And, what do you think? I quite liked Tea (Anne is still something of a pill, however).
Just how much did I like my Tea? You will see later today, in the full post.