Read this book if: You’ve been wondering whether the detective novel was really, truly dead. (It’s not.)
Don’t quit reading until at least: The end of part 1, chapter 6.
The first novel of a four part series, The Cuckoo’s Calling introduces us to our star Cormoran Strike, who is tasked with solving a mystery that he does not believe to exist. Newly homeless and sleeping in his office, Strike has no choice but to accept when lawyer John Bristow offers multiple times the going rate for an investigation into his sister’s recent and infamous death. While Lula Landry’s death was surely a suicide, Strike nevertheless doggedly chases down the truth on behalf of his new client. As any good detective in any good mystery novel, Strike harbors a ruthless drive for justice that is a greater motivator even than payment – would we have it any other way? He is joined in his journey by Robin, his secret-weapon of a secretary that comes to him from a temping agency, more competent than he could have ever hoped for.
J.K. Rowling writes this novel under the pen name Robert Galbraith, and you will find her style- nostalgically reminiscent of Harry Potter’s saga- in the atmosphere of every chapter. Scenes of gritty human reality are set against an incongruously cozy and warmly lit backdrop. However antagonistic the exchange between characters may be, the reader is treated to a setting that would satisfy any tourist visiting London for the first time. Strike spends many afternoons in snug, softly lit London pubs… complete, of course, with rain against the windowpane. A reader may recall Holmes sitting in his chair by the fire, smoking, while clients burst unannounced through the doorway and shake rain, sleet, snow, and clues from their hats. Again and again, Rowling’s settings are cheerfully uncaring when it comes to the details of her actual plot, which will ring true for any reader who has spent any amount of time in a large city.
Strike spends a great deal of time relentlessly tracking witnesses of the night Lula Landry allegedly committed suicide. Each interview is hard-won and heavily preambled, and immensely gratifying once it is finally delivered. Each player is researched on Robin’s desk computer, carefully noted and stored away in Strike’s manilla envelopes, described and then described again through the differently colored lenses of their friends or coworkers. By the time the character is in front of us, he or she has been stretched into a caricature that we ache to compare to the real thing. And Rowling delivers; Strike drags us along at a limping pace and sits us down in a very exclusive seat at the table for every questioning. The reader is a fly on the wall while Strike questions tired-eyed policemen, distracted starlets, and the raw-nerved beneficiaries of every trust fund in London. Each person of interest is more self-superior and elitist than the last, so that their disarming becomes a psychological battle with an invaluable reward – honesty.
*The following section addresses the end of the novel but will not reveal any specific details*
This is first and foremost a mystery novel, and – although the “dots” are (arguably) all present and accounted for- I think a reader would do best to just enjoy the plot and allow Strike to connect them. He is the one getting paid, after all. The resolve isn’t neat or tidy, but it is exhaustive, and delivered in such a ruminating monologue that I think all of our Sherlock Holmes fans will be truly proud. I believe that you’ll thoroughly enjoy this read and will be eager- once finished – to pick up its sequel, The Silkworm.
If you’d like to read along: In June 2020, I will be reviewing Sharks in the Time of Saviors, by Kawai Strong Washburn.
Late Fees 