Michael Kurland has written many non-fiction books on a vast array of topics, including How to Solve a Murder, as well as many novels. Twice a finalist for the Edgar Award (once for The Infernal Device) given by the Mystery Writers of America, Kurland is perhaps best known for his novels about Professor Moriarty. He lives in Petaluma, California.
In the future, the United States air force has incorporated with the space force to create a formidable joint defense and exploration operation. The navy, meanwhile—still reeling from that whole Village People debacle—has lost even more luster. Robert Burrows, a commissioned officer in the navy, is only too aware of how his branch of the service is perceived. But when he took the test to get into the space program, he was a bolo. “You’re highly intelligent,” the proctor informed him, “just too reckless and independent-minded for the kind of force we’re becoming.” Burrows is despondent, until he stumbles onto a plot involving psionic espionage that somehow has the navy its heart. It’s hard to say exactly what’s going on—as is usually the case with spycraft—but there is rumor of a series of undersea bases housing nuclear weapons, commandeered either by mutineers or manipulated by foreign actors. Now Burrows and a man with the improbable name of Addison Friendly have to get to the heart of the matter—not to mention the bottom of the sea—to solve the mystery. If they fail, a lot of things are going to go boom. Psi Hunt is a middling, mostly derivative work that shows some signs of life and originality, but not quite enough to recommend it. Too often the dialogue (aside from some rare clever volleys) is tin-eared, the characters mostly wooden ciphers. The use of a designer drug to enhance one’s psychic abilities is an interesting cyberpunk touch, but the stream-of-consciousness device author Michael Kurland uses to describe the telepath’s trip is annoying rather than disorienting. His integration of Chinese history and mythology into the weltanschauung of the Chinese spy is well-done, though. Imagine The Manchurian Candidate with a dash of Johnny Pneumonic, although not as compelling as the former or as much campy fun as the latter, and you’re in the ballpark. It’s worth a couple bucks, though, if you find a copy moldering on the shelves at your local used bookstore. Or if you’re some kind of Kurland completist.
A slick feeling like being used slid me into continuing my reading of this book. The “in” jokes actually made the plodding seem less tedious. Am I alone in seeing the Emperor’s belly-button