Book 1 in the Frank Gould Mystery series
Some, stuck on the idea of genre, ask: “Is this a mystery? For real?”
Well, sure! There’s a crime!!! Whaddya think!! Indeed, several. There’s a detective. A couple or three… FBI agents (stick around for that…). Lot’s of that banter you would expect (oh, plenty!). Guns. Explosions. Blood…somewhere.
However, this is a long story. And the first part of it (BUT TELL IT SLANT) lays out the background while getting the foreground…in motion, as it were. Kind of like a train getting started. Train? Get it??? Because these are no small crimes and no small-time criminals. Not at all. Serial killers??? PFFFT!!!
Plus, this begins the saga of the main characters, Frank Gould and his coterie, who (hopefully) will be around to solve other crimes, share other thrilling adventures and laughs after the derring-do in these first four novels is complete. Soon, I think…for now, just these three will have to suffice. If I can get the cat off the keyboard, maybe before Christmas.
Meanwhile… Frank starts out following a ghost across America on a trail left by bunnies. A trail begun decades earlier. Bunny droppings? Go figure.
There were times I hated Frank Gould, or rather was as exasperated as the people around him. But like them I couldn't let go. I really loved this book, which is much more than a standard mystery or adventure though it succeeds at being both. I read it through this first time for the story, but I'll have to go back to enjoy the weird but spot on word play. Frank Gould isn't Jack Reacher (as I'd expected from the blurb), he reads like a hybrid of Salinger's Seymour Glass and Rex Stout's Saul Panzer and much as I wanted to smack him at times, I love him and want to read more about him. I really want more Paula too… And thank you!” Ovidia Yu