McGee's investigation into the suspicious death of his most recent lover leads him to search for a mysterious religious cult in northern California, which turns out to be a front for a massive terrorist organization. Pretty grim stuff here, and his friend Meyer's gloomy predictions (a frightening number of which have come to pass since the book's 1979 publication date) don't help the overall downer tone.
It was called Love...
In another season there were girls of Summer, robust and playful in their sandy ways, and now here were the winter ones with cool surmise in the tended eye fragrant and speculative, strolling, sailing and tanning , making their night music and night scent. And ther there was Gretel.
Gretel had discovered the key to me--all of me and suddenly I had something to hope for. Then terribly, unexpectantly she was dead. From a mysterious illness. they told me. But I knew they were lying Gretel hed been murdered. And now I was out for blood.
In another season there were girls of Summer, robust and playful in their sandy ways, and now here were the winter ones with cool surmise in the tended eye fragrant and speculative, strolling, sailing and tanning , making their night music and night scent. And ther there was Gretel.
Gretel had discovered the key to me--all of me and suddenly I had something to hope for. Then terribly, unexpectantly she was dead. From a mysterious illness. they told me. But I knew they were lying Gretel hed been murdered. And now I was out for blood.
Travis McGee series
An interesting book by another underrated, lost, and almost forgotten novelist. This one is murder mystery in the vein of Mary Roberts Rinehart, Dorothy L. Sayers, Dashiell Hammett, and Raymond Chandler. One of the Travis McGee novels all titled to include a hue from the color spectrum. McGee, something other than a professional detective, has the qualities of a Sam Spade, or Philip Marlowe, bedding down the best of the dames (although not all of themhe does pass on some), but always with a more polished prose. The author, always the sociological sexologist, is up to tune. Not a shabby read for a quiet evening or two.
