This is the second Leonid McGill novel I’ve read and I don’t really remember much about the first one. McGill is a contemporary detective, a former boxer, still in shape, dangerous with his hands and weapons, knows everyone, and works in various undergrounds in various capacities. What’s strange about this book is that it is considerably shorter than the other McGill books.
In addition, what’s strange about contemporary detective novels is that the character generally has to contend with modern technology in some way. And like plenty who came before him, the decision by the author and the detective is to be “old school” and pretend like that technology doesn’t exist, mostly.
I do have to say that this rings a little true with the men I know in their sixties. My father-in-law is a lawyer — well-educated, smart — more or less tech-savvy, has a broken-ass flip phone still. He pays for texts.
Anyway, that’s the basic vibe here. I can’t say much about the book itself. It’s solid, like most of Walter Mosley’s books, and like most of his books, I bet I won’t remember much from this when I think back on it later, if I ever do.
There’s something interesting that I do like about it, which is going back in time to show us his interaction with a character in the past, and then bringing that up to speed. Anyway, here’s a book and I read it. I think I like the Easy Rawlings books better.