Does the world need yet another novel about a lone cynical private eye trying to make it in a corrupt and unforgiving world. The answer is an unqualified yes when the detective is Sam Hunter, who is part Mike Shayne and part Hunter S. Thompson.
While the story has the usual hardboiled private eye motifs such as the corrupt vice cop, the sex-starved secretary, the rundown private eye office, dirty pictures, and jealous wives, what sets this book apart is that Hunter has no filter. He says what's on his mind and never seems to turn down a willing dame and there are so many willing that he practically needs a stick to fight them off. When a loud radio in another car in a traffic jam bothers him, Hunter points his gun at the offender. When an uppity receptionist looks down her nose at him, Hunter is as crude as can be. Hunter strikes first in almost every fight and is fond of breaking bones.
This book nails it. It's an early eighties hardboiled story that is so vivid you can feel plastic melting in the Los Angeles heat. Hunter is cynical, crass, overbearing, but knows right from wrong.
Overall, it's a great read. Easy to get into and easy to stay interested in. It's a little bit longer than a classic hardboiled novel would be, but it's from a slightly different mold. In some ways, it is tongue-in-cheek, but in others, it's just over the top excess.
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