Hempel does not shy away from the realities of poverty in the society she depicts, and that huge cast, while baffling, shows the diversity of life at the time.

I found that the information on, for instance, James March's wife's struggle to win her pension shone a light on how Britain at the time treated those scientists who, despite making great advancements, were not, perhaps, of the correct social classes.

It benefits from this as well, however there was an excellent sense of time and place, and the details included on bit-players show impeccable research. The book suffers from a huge cast of characters, all with easily-confused James-like names, and because I read it in several sittings I found myself having to refer back to work out who the many doctors referenced were. Hempel will, for example, pose a question, wander off in interesting commentary on the scientists or personal histories involved, and then answer the question after sufficient time that I had to look back to see what the answer is in response to. Other reviewers have mentioned that The Inheritor's Powder fails to hold focus, and this is very true. I enjoyed this book a great deal, but I'm not convinced that it is what it purports to be. Sandra Hempel, author of The Inheritor's Powder, is a medical journalist who has written for a wide variety of both popular newspapers and magazines and specialist publications, from the Mail on Sunday and The Times to Nursing Times and BMA News. Were innocent men and women now going to the gallows? In so doing though he was to cause as many problems as he solved. So when a chemist named James Marsh was called as an expert witness in the case of the murder at Plumstead, he decided that he had to create a reliable test for arsenic poisoning, or the murders would continue and killers would be left to walk free. Even diagnosing arsenic poisoning was a hit-and-miss affair. The surgeon John Butler had set about collecting the evidence that he hoped would bring the culprit to justice but, in the 1830s, forensic science was still in its infancy. For a few pence and with few questions asked, it was possible to buy enough poison to kill off an entire family, hence arsenic's popular name - The Inheritor's Powder. In the nineteenth century, criminal poisoning with arsenic was frighteningly easy. The Bodles had been the victims of a terrible poisoning. Three days later, after lingering in agony, the wealthy grandfather George Bodle died in his bed at his farmhouse in Plumstead. That evening, the local surgeon John Butler received an urgent summons - the family and their servants had all collapsed with a serious illness. On the morning of Saturday 2nd of November 1833, the Bodle household sat down to their morning breakfast, sharing a pot of coffee.

The Inheritor's Powder by Sandra Hempel