Jed Rudenfeld, a Harvard scholar, has dedicated his academic life to two men: Sigmund Freud and William Shakespeare. It is therefore no surprise that his debut novel features both in abundance. An Interpretation of Murder, published in 2006 has been well received in both Britain and the States, marking a prodigious entrance for the author. Taking in both fictional narrative and historical context this book is set against the smoky and sumptuous backdrop of turn of the century New York.

In 1909 Freud bought his entourage of psychoanalysts to America for the first time; this much is historical. Rudenfeld then weaves for them a tale of murder and intrigue over matters of the mind. When a body of a society girl is found bound and hanging in a hotel and another girl is unable to recall the sadistic torture she received, Stratham Younger, Freud’s American protégée, steps up to the challenge of unravelling the mystery.

Rudenfeld’s New York has been agonisingly researched to ensure the landscapes portrayed in the book offer a vivid and accurate picture of pre-war America. Similarly the words and opinions of Freud and his colleagues are based on actual theories and discourses. This pervasive vein of fact throughout the fiction joyfully informs the reader without impeding the plot or causing the narrative to feel stilted.

At its heart it’s an old fashioned murder mystery keeping the reader gripped right up until the last page. Red Herrings and revelations come at you from all angles forever drawing the reader into a web of intricate details and puzzling conundrums. This has to be one of the greatest examples of not being able to put a book down for love nor money. The passion with which it’s written translates so easily to the recipient that you’ll find yourself cutting off your socialising in support of a homicide thriller.

And thrills are certainly thrown at you thick and fast. As the last few pages appear, bring on the drum roll for the highly anticipated finale of epic proportions and twist of tale. However, this just doesn’t live up to the rest of the 400 pages. This is the one downside, without giving away the plot, the ending is somewhat subdued, the mystery is unravelled and Freud leaves America bewildered and unimpressed. The conclusion is all a bit too convoluted and leaves you a little bemused but ultimately satisfied.

Rudenfeld has a triumphant debut on his hands and all we can hope for is the next instalment of Shakespearean psycho-analysis thrown our way.