In the back of the edition I read, the editor or somebody states that Nero Wolfe thought Fox was the best detective he'd ever written. I wonder, given that these little "gems" were added to the books long after Stout's death, and the fact that he only wrote 3 Fox novels. (Oh, and by the way, skip Rita Mae Brown's Introduction unless you want the whole book spoiled for you: plot, denouement and all.) I read somewhere else (perhaps in a biography) that Stout's publisher wanted him to have a different detective besides Wolfe to increase market share, and that Stout was less than enamoured of the idea--witness the fact that from Wolfe he went to Fox, not much of a departure if he was really interested in striking into a new vein.
But it's not just that. The story itself is lacklustre, with no spark, no sparkle, and no humour. Too many characters, many of whom serve no purpose, too much unnecessary convolution. I had great hopes of Fox with his rambling farmhouse and his menage of oddities, but they play no part in the story to speak of. As a detective, Fox is a bit of a duffer; his technique of gathering information seems to be to ask someone a question and then interrupt them before they can give him the answer he supposedly wants. And boy, can Tecumseh talk. Yak, yak, yak. He can't let anyone else get a word in edgewise. Most of the cops and lawyers have the same disease--chatter, chatter, chatter. Stout seems to have forgotten all about "show don't tell" for this book. It feels like it was written by a completely different person--a not very accomplished person, at that.
Just in passing, I notice that Stout continues his penchant for totally made-up brand names for things like cars and firearms. I wonder why? It serves no purpose to call a car a Weathersill instead of a Ford or a Cadillac, just as there's no point in calling a pistol a Dowsey instead of a Colt.
At first I thought it was just "summer brain", but this book was an awful trudge. The only reason I forced myself to finish it was because I was feeling cantankerous, but it took me a week to read this short book. I kept putting it down and picking up other things.
Dull, dull, dull. Perhaps I should have read Brown's spoiler-ridden Intro and left it at that.