The electronic cityscape blends in with reality, which I assume is the intended effect, but in places (especially flashbacks) the readers could wish for clearer clues about where and when we just jumped to. Except for that, the setting creation is excellent, and the intrusion of advertising into our private space could well be prophetic.

Rebic has a clever writing style, with setting descriptions like, “The only thing that they maintained here was the pretense.” Likewise entertaining comments enliven the necessary function of character description, salted with references to long-dead poets and philosophers. This makes it an entertaining read.

Cristobal is what earlier generations would call a yuppie film noir detective: tall, blond and handsome, living in a bright, tidy modern apartment, with huge lifestyle bills that he manages to pay off with seeming ease.

This is a first-person narrator who breaks the fourth wall and talks to the readers apologizing for stereotypical plot arcs, with frequent asides commenting on his job, his clients, his personal failings and everything else in true Mickey Spilane style. A thoroughly likeable guy.

The other characters (for example the AI that functions as his trusty secretary) are based on stereotypes, playing both inside and against the traditional forms.

The humour holds the suspense down some, but the tension grows steadily as the characters work their way through the rather simple plot arc. There is a surprisingly small amount of sexual tension between the two main characters, but it’s a short book, and there isn’t time for everything. It all finishes with a less-than-usually-violent fight scene and a rather long denouement that ties up all the loose bits. Then there’s a happily-for-the-moment ending, and it’s all done and dusted.

A well-constructed modernization of an old form, recommended for fans of Noir Detective books.

Four stars.