This is the second in a series of urban fantasy/police procedurals set
in London. They are rather whimsical, in a very British way, so if
you’re allergic to self-effacing heroes, dry, understated humour and a
severe lack of gun-battles, you should probably avoid this. I liked the
first in the series, ‘Rivers of London’ (bizarrely called ‘Midnight
Riot’ in the US), with a few reservations, but this one worked even
better, I thought. It’s always a problem writing the first of what could
be a lengthy series, since you have to establish the characters, the
premise and the setting, while also constructing a major plot and
weaving in a number of subplots which will run for some time. The second
attempt is often much easier with the heavy lifting already done, as it
were, and such is the case here.
The big attraction for me is
the central character, Peter Grant, a fairly ordinary London copper who
has been co-opted into the Metropolitan Police’s ‘magic’ department to
train as a wizard after showing signs of magical ability. Unlike many
such fantasy works, however, Peter doesn’t become all-powerful
overnight, nor does he display unusual levels of ability. On the
contrary, he struggles to learn anything at all, his spells often go
wrong, and he regularly has to fall back on his not especially quick
wits to get him out of trouble, leading to a surprising amount of (very
entertaining) destruction of property. He is very male, however, which
means that it isn’t always his brain which is doing the thinking, and in
this book this leads to some improbably athletic sex.
The other
characters are mildly interesting in their different ways, but not
particularly compelling. The river spirits, who were a feature of the
previous book, have a very small role in this one, and one-time
potential girlfriend Lesley (a fellow cop who magically lost half her
face in the first book) is sidelined here, but clearly is going to be
developed further in future books. It’s a curious thing that almost all
the female characters are either termagants (Tyburn, Stephanopoulos) or
evil vampire-like creatures (several of those) or in some way weird or
eccentric (Molly, Peter’s Mum). Then there’s the one who could be
described literally as a man-eater. Ouch.
I do like a book that
makes me laugh, and this one is laugh-out-loud funny (for those who get
that low-key British humour, of course). I do wonder just how this sort
of thing plays elsewhere - all those references to postwar architecture
and A-roads and chavettes and Morse, and sly digs at Cheam and the
peaceable nature of Glaswegians. Some of it is so subtle that many of
the jokes must whizz over the heads of non-Brits. I’m sure I missed a
few myself. The descriptions of London - Camden Market and Soho and the
Trocadero - are probably less problematic, since the author describes
them well enough for the reader to get some idea.
The plot -
well, it’s not really the point of a book like this. Let’s just say that
it’s a bit flimsy, but it serves well enough to get Our Hero to the
appropriate number of setpiece encounters, where his limited magical
abilities combined with some improvisation more or less get him out of
trouble. As is usual in this type of book, the main plotline is neatly
sewn up, with a scattering of characters and incidents left to bubble up
in future books in the series. I’m not a big fan of urban fantasy as a
rule, as it veers too close to horror for my taste, but this one is
milder than the previous book in that respect, and the humour and gentle
charm made it a totally enjoyable, if lightweight, experience. Four
stars.
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