REVIEW OF THE CUCKOO'S CALLING

Tom's review (he couldn't attend)

When I was ten-eleven-twelve years old, I loved The Hardy Boys mysteries.  At the time, there were roughly 45 books in the series, and, by virtue of borrowing from libraries and friends, getting gifts for Christmases and birthdays, buying with my own allowance and indulging in a couple-three five-finger discounts, I managed to amass and read all 45.  At a time of my life when everything I liked to do seemed to be irritating if not illegal, the Hardy Boys provided cozy, reliable comfort, the pre-pubescent version of a duvet day.  

More than fifty years later, "The Cuckoo's Calling" by Robert Galbraith (nee J.K. Rowling) brought back those same warm feelings.  It no doubt helped that I read it while nursing a bad cough under an actual duvet.  The language and situations may be a little earthier than anything in "The Tower Treasure" or "The Phantom Freighter", but the book has the same easy-on-the-brain style, easy-to-like protagonists and easy-to-despise bad guys.  Call it The Hardy Boys with the occasional C-word.  

It is certainly not great literature.  I'm not sure if it's even a good detective novel. Dickens would have blushed at the mountain of coincidence and plot calisthenics occurring in the thirty minutes either side of Lula Landry's death, let alone the entirety of the novel.  On the other hand, he probably would have been okay with the florid syntax.  For sure, he would have approved of the evocation of London's landmarks, boroughs and street-life. 

But none of what may sound like misgivings means I didn't like it.  In fact, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it a lot.  Which is why I'm giving it four duvets. 

(Later revised to four duvets/ two stars once the paracetamol wore off).

Tom's ambivalent enthusiasm was mirrored by the rest. Avg rating: 2.4 stars