It never seemed to occur to Heather that Francisca might be a refugee from the dim and distant past—not even when she fainted at her first sight of an airliner. I’d have sussed it on the first day—which just goes to show why more science fiction should be included in the National Curriculum.
I was a little trepidatious about this, the latest instalment in the Rivers of London series, as I'd found the previous volume (False Value) slightly disappointing. Reviews from trustworthy friends were positive, though, so I bought and read it: and then reread the entire series whilst recovering from a bout of post-Covid nonsense.
The novel opens with a murder in the London Silver Vaults on Chancery Lane: a flash of bright light and a man lying dead with a hole in his chest and a chunk of metal deeply embedded there. There are traces of magic on the metal, so this is clearly a case for Peter Grant and his boss Thomas Nightingale, plus new trainee Danni and Muslim ninja Sahra Guleed. The investigation involves puzzle rings, a stolen lamp, a religious cult and a trip to Glossop, ancestral home of Alexander Seawoll. Also bloody Lesley. And Peter's working to a deadline, because his partner Bev is due to give birth soon, and (what with her being a powerful river goddess) it's more than his life's worth to miss the event.
This was an enjoyable read: the usual pop-culture references (including the title), Guleed being awesome, Peter's random thought processes, a rural river, foxen, a new flavour of magic and something that might be an alien or an angel. I felt the pacing languished a bit in the middle third, and I do hope that Lesley will eventually either step out of the shadows or bugger off. Also, I crave more Nightingale -- not less -- and would like to know what Varvara is up to. But overall, better than expected -- and yes, after rereading the whole series, I do like False Value better as well.
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