I really wanted to like this book. It is full of snappy dialog, a multitude of suspects popping out of the author's top hat, and prestidigitation scattered like confetti across a magician's stage. There's plenty of spooky atmosphere, as well as fascinating mini-lectures on historical tidbits about psychics and magicians and escape artists. So what's not to like?
Well, what's not to like is the delivery. On stage, a magician's delivery is everything, and here, Rawson needlessly entangles this story in a point-of-view that left me wondering why the character who is telling the story even exists? Add to this Rawson's endless desire to explain and clear up every possible plot hole ad nauseum, and it left me wishing I could stand up and leave the theater. I didn't, so as not to cause a disturbance among all the people sitting around me, but I'm just that sort of good-guy.
I mentioned snappy dialog. It was snappy, to be sure. Frenetic might be a better word for it. Everyone shoots lines out like they're in a stage-play where all the actors want to finish early so they can leave for an audition at a better theater. I kept expecting some of the characters to pass out since none of them had a chance to take a breath as they bantered back and forth with speculations, theories, accusations, and alibis.
The police detective, Flint, that arrives to solve the murder, suspects everyone, and continually threatens to arrest...everyone. He seems to have no discernment at all. This is important to Rawson, who makes sure we constantly worry that the magician, Merlini, or the narrator, Ross, will end up convicted of a murder they didn't do. Which makes little sense. It would be like watching Inspector Japp spend the whole book chasing Poirot. I mean, Japp is pretty slow, be he's not that dumb. And this Flint cannot be this dumb either. But he seems to be.
As for Merlini...
He's the main character here. Rawson's series, I suppose, follows this magician as he solves mysteries that are centered around magic. And he fits the bill for this role. He's a magician, of course, which means he's secretive, keeps his cards up his sleeve, and seems to confuse the detective more than he helps him. Sure, he figures it all out in the end, but the leaps of logic and the coincidental use of magic/illusion that goes on with a magician in the house is all a bit too much to take.
I haven't even mentioned the plot. And why should I? I love a preposterous, overly complicated murder mystery. This one is wide-open, with talk of ghosts, zombies, and true love. I had no trouble swallowing such farce, that's the fun of these books, and what I was hoping for. I just think Rawson needed to clean it up a bit, slow down the break-neck speed, and not spend so much time explaining everything.
I may read another one of these, but I would need to be rested up before I tried it.