Stross' latest is a Laundry Files spin-off, a nested Peter Pan riff posing as an occult/techno-thriller in a sideways London where the Lovecraftian apocalypse is real to the extent that Nyarlathotep is now Prime Minister. So there's the first problem: it's another dystopia which in fact looks fairly appealing compared to our own timeline. There's one scene where a character's ward is nullified as she comes under psychic attack: "a bleak tide of depression washed over her. It felt like she'd jumped in a river of regrets, her pockets stuffed with cobblestones. It came to her distantly that she could barely muster the energy to breathe – in fact begrudged herself every successive moment of mindlessly prolonged life." At which I could only sigh enviously at the thought of a world where that mood is the result of magical aggression, rather than the day-to-day default. Hell, I was feeling a bit this way with the previous Laundry novel proper, and that was pre-lockdown. A development Stross could hardly have predicted, granted, but there's no such excuse in having the villain here be a tycoon whose political career was stymied by photos of him fucking a dead pig at university, something which is obviously no impediment in our own world. Said villain is called Rupert de Montfort Bigge, and depicted with exactly the degree of subtlety that moniker suggests, a monster of greed and depravity in a way which feels slightly old-fashioned when we know the destruction our own world's super-rich can cause while having entirely colourless private lives. Yes, having Rupert be a feudal lordling of a Channel Island called Skaro did make me chuckle at the near-anagram with a little extra bite, but there were definitely times here where I was getting a Pat Mills vibe, a sense that while I absolutely agree with the author about the evils of privatisation, deregulation and unfettered inequality, he was still hammering the point to the extent it was harming the art*.
The protagonists are a more rounded bunch. Wendy, a long way from the Barrie via Disney version we expect, is a rentacop who can magically summon items; she ends up on the trail of some Lost Boys pulling superpowered heists to fund a Peter Pan film; and then Bigge's mutinous PA also gets involved. But none of them ever quite came alive for me to the same degree as the leads in the Laundry Files proper, perhaps because there the narrators always had at least a whole novel to inveigle themselves into your sympathies, instead of having to share space like this. Still, it's not like Stross hasn't created compelling leads in shorter spaces before, and this contributes to a general sense that he's not quite operating at the peak of his powers here. Lords know he's not been having a good time of it lately, and some of the most powerful sections feel like they may be drawing on that – for all the Cthulhoid nasties, the most genuinely horrific passages are undoubtedly the ones about dealing with a parent's degenerative illness, the indignities and damage attendant on that. Elsewhere, though, there are big action sequences which feel a little too straight thriller, a bit big-budget TV, and not really what I'm after in a Laundry (or even Laundry-adjacent) book, to the extent that it can start feeling like a franchise extension by another hand. Except then you'll get a passage that's pure Stross, like the novel twist on the magical Macguffin, or in particular the tense discussion on the technicalities of its attendant curse – "ancient death spells and intellectual property laws don't always play nice together".
It all builds to a conclusion which is equal parts atmospheric and frustrating; its approach to a key SF trope feels a bit cake-and-eat-it, which I could forgive for the mood it builds, if it weren't then slightly swamped in too many factions whose motives I didn't entirely buy given they were mostly meant to be on the same side. You know Ben Wheatley's Free Fire? Imagine if, on top of the other things which made it less than entirely satisfying, the warehouse location and its immediate environs were really interesting in themselves, and the gunfight was largely getting in the way. There are some fun traps and reversals, but mostly I was left with the sense of a book which might have been happier as its own thing, or perhaps earlier in the Laundry timeline (circa Annihilation Score, for instance), but which as it stands feels like a bit of a square peg.
*It should be noted that I'm reading a Netgalley ARC, granted with a proviso that details could change before final publication, but this is not a matter of line-by-line quotes which could be checked so much as a general issue with the fabric and feel of the book.