From Publishers Weekly
How can a book go wrong when it opens with the immediate aftermath of a pig's 11,000-foot drop into a Seattle home? The answer is: it can't, really. Emerson's compelling latest defies easy categorization. Its mystery elements echo his Seattle-based Thomas Black detective novels; suspense comes from the felony and coverup that lie at the center of the story; and then there's the comedy of the deliciously deadpan Jason Gum, narrator and rookie firefighter, which spins the novel out of any conventional genre. There is, though, a definite coming-of-age story, as rookie Jason learns the ins and outs of his challenging job, for starters. Jason's rocky affair with the lady of the pig-wrecked house, Iola Pederson (who's 20 years his senior), is just the first of many lessons he learns at this school of hard knocks. Additional plot developments involve a compulsive fire starter cum alarm puller and his stash of valuable bonds, as well as Jason's complicated relationships with his co-workers, Lieutenant Sears and bickering fellow firefighters Johnson and Tronstad. Indeed, the more spectacular firefighting set pieces act as McGuffins before the real story gets rolling. Character becomes plot when Jason runs afoul of the amoral and possibly evil Tronstad. Emerson is funniest when he's at his most seriousβand vice versaβin this consistently entertaining and always surprising yarn.
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From
By the time ill-starred firefighter Jason Gum trains his hose on scantily clad vamp Iola Pederson--he's trying to wash off the remains of the meteoric pig that fell from the sky through her West Seattle roof--the sleazy, breezy tone is set for this smoldering little morality tale. The story's somewhat slack mainspring is $12 million in bearer bonds, stolen from the house of a deceased recluse by Jason's despicable partner and secreted in Iola's garage just about the time she wearies of her fireman boy toy. The vortex of greed, destruction, and murder that ensue seems headed for Hiaasen country without ever really getting there; the book's broad strokes diffuse suspense without providing a compensating zaniness. What remains is a laid-back and likable noir lite, as though Dan Jenkins or Bill Fitzhugh had taken up the firefighting torch. Emerson has done better in both his Thomas Black and Mac Fontana series. This one won't lose him fans but probably won't gain many, either. David Wright
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