Let's meet (or get reacquainted with) the hero of the series. In his own words:
I'm what the guys who don't like me call a peeper. An investigator and confidential agent, the way I put it. Pay me - up front - and I'll find out things. More often than not, things you didn't really want to know. I don't dig up much good news. That's the nature of the racket.
In this episode Garrett is plagued by an over-abundance of redheads ( I'm a sucker for redheads. I've been known to favor the occasional blonde, brunette, whatever, too. ). It all starts with his gal Tinnie Tate getting stabbed in broad daylight on the street right in front of Garret's house, and continues with the entry of one appetisant flame haired beauty after another, as Garrett tries to understand why Tinnie was targeted.
The plot in this fifth books steers closer to classic hardboiled novels than usual, in particular to The Maltese Falcon where everybody is searching for a magical book that grants unlimited powers to its wielder. A major temptation that can turn the mind of good people and made the bad people worse than ever ( I'd started thinking about how I could use the book myself. I suspected anybody who heard about it would do the same. Human nature. How could anyone who possessed it resist abusing the power it would confer? ). Garrett finds himself caught between the factions fighting for the book : TunFaire underworld kingpin Chodo Contague and his minions, the Tate family bent on revenge for Tinnie, the dwarves clan under Gnorst son of Gnorst, redhead mystery woman Carla Lindo Ramada, Tunfaire version of the Fat Man named Fido Eastermann, a witch with a serpent tattoo and assorted wildlife that has recently invaded TunFaire (flying monkeys, thunder lizards).
- What was that? Carla Lindo finally managed.
- That was Winger. Try not no aggravate her. She's kind of like an earthquake. Not a whole lot of self-restraint.
Best newcomer to the series is Winger - a bountyhunter from out of town, as big as Garret in size, she gives him a run for his money in every department, including sarcastic remarks and leg pulling.
Before I start on the style and the fun quotes, I'll point out the book can be read as a stand alone, but it would make more sense to follow the publication order, as there are some plot lines developing over several volumes (the Glory Mooncalled war exploits in the Cantard in particular) , and a lot of character development from earlier books that is referenced here.
As usual Garret is a fountain of witty, sarcastic remarcs, more often than not aimed at his own persona. The light tone is prevalent in the opening chapters, but as the story unfolds, our hero gets darker and grimmer page by page. Here's a selection of his spiel, starting with the coming of spring in TunFaire, prompting the portly P.I. to try to get back in shape for romance:
Last lap. Beer ahead. Relief only a few yards away. I came off Wizard's Reach full speed, about a walk and a half, snorting like a wounded buffalo, listing from side to side, steering like a ship without a rudder. Only my neighbors watching me kept me from getting down and crawling the last hundred feet.
Some comments on the latest redhead to fall into his arms:
I'm immune to romantic notions, of course. I'm a block of heavy metal unshakably planted at the center of a plain of common sense, illuminated by the sun of reason.
Right.
Look up.
See the swarms of pigs flying south for the winter.
Next passage reads like a classic Philip Marlowe or Sam Spade, with the wild similes and bitter laughs :
You may have noticed that things have a way of catching up with me whenever I feel too positive. The god who hands out the towels in the heavenly loo has a sideline. Messing with Garrett. He's such a puny, useless god they couldn't find anything better for him to do. But he's really good at messing with me. He works at it so hard, I think he's bucking for a promotion.
The Dead Man is good for one repartee or two, when he feels Garret needs a little prep talk:
Ah. You begin to use the head for something besides a device which keeps your hair from getting in the way when you eat. Excellent.
I would not like to give the impression that the humor is the main attraction of the series. The plot is top notch, one of the best in the series so far, and behind the clown facade Garret is hurting as much as anybody else:
I was just in one of those moods where I start wondering about people. Where they come from, what they did when I wasn't looking, like that. It isn't a mood I enjoy. It gets me thinking about myself, my own lack of place and depth in the scheme. No family. Hardly any friends, and them I don't know that well. What I don't know about Morley and Saucerhead could fill books, probably. They don't know me any better, either. Part of being a rough, tough, he-man type, I suppose. On stage all the time, hiding carefully.
Is it all worth the effort, doing his bit to keep the streets safe and not give in to bullies and crooks? Hard question to answer, especially when you are in a tight spot and everybody looks the other way and pretends not to notice anything amiss:
These are the little people, the ones I thought needed a champion when I outfitted myself with creaky idealistic armor. Sometimes people make it damn hard to care about people. Sometimes they do their damnedest to make it seem they deserve whatever they get.
What Garret has though, in Glen Cook words, is stick-to-it-ivity , the mullish insistence to follow the dictates of his inner code of honor and not choose the easy way out:
We all have a bit of the Serpent in us, just waiting for the right moment to bloom. Witness all these characters who wanted the Book of Dreams. Not all of them had been bad to begin. We can't get shut of the Serpents but we can sure as hell lower the price in pain by snipping one off the social bush now and then.
I'll exercise my own stick-to-it-ivity and follow the series through as long as mr. Cook keeps writing it.