That said, if the Peter Grant of this story is quieter, more contemplative perhaps, he's still going to be familiar to long-term, fans. There's the low-grade snark that anyone working a professional role exhibits, albeit given a police-centric spin. There's the digressions into London history and architecture, which are always good fun (and usually plot relevant). And there's the raw, self-aware honesty that makes Peter work as a protagonist. He approaches his own emotions and thoughts with an enthusiastic energy which makes it possible to take him seriously, while adding in enough banter and touches of humanity that he seems like a person. In this case, a person soon to be on the receiving end of fatherhood, mulling how that will affect him. But still recognisably PC Grant - older, nominally wiser, but still ticking along, alongside the longer-running supporting cast. I'm not sure I'd want a new reader to start here, but if they did, I think that Peter's internal dialogue, his way of seeing the world, would remain as powerful a unique voice as it ever was (and it's always nice to see BAME representation, too.) As noted, the gang is largely back together here, from the taciturn, old-school Nightingale, who drives a jag, wears a suit, gives off a genial uncle vibe, and once drilled a fireball through a Tiger tank, to the various rivers of London - from haughty Tyburn on down - and back to the blustery, take-no prisoners Seawoll, whose nice tidy murder investigations keep getting interrupted by "weird bollocks. There's a sprawling group by this time, and we'll all have our favourites. I think most of them are here somewhere, though it does sometimes feel like they're spread a bit thin by sheer weight of numbers. Still, an entertaining crowd, all the same.
Incidentally, some parts of this story dare to trespass outside the borders of London. They even involve going into the unknown hinterlands of The North. There, wyrd smiths ply an ancient occult trade, ghosts haunt the moors, and occasionally, someone attempts to do a rather supernaturally tinged murder. It's lovely to diverge our location a little; Aaronovitch's love of London folklore is obvious, but it's a joy to see that beam of inquiry digging around in the rest of the UK, which certainly deserves it. But worry not, because there's also plenty of lore of London to be had, and in any event, the geography itself carries a sense of weight, of place, in both cases. That is to say, they have enough flavour and texture, personal and descriptive, to make them feel real. I will note that nine novels and a great many novellae and comic collections into the series, it sometimes feels like I'm missing contest; some relationships on the page work well enough, but feel like they'd have more resonance if I'd read a comic or two, for example. Still, the relationships work as they are, for me - though I might not start here as a first time reader, as an old hand, they're charming and comfortable.
The story I shan't spoil, though those of you with a working knowledge of Monty Python may venture to a guess or two of the focus. It does however trot along well enough. Clues and motives are laced through the story, available to the alert reader (and occasionally, to the regular reader, like me).The story pulls at the roots of its genre here, building a murder investigation from the ground up, walking us through procedure, revelation by revelation on the search for truth. And, to be fair, it's not above the occasional swift pivot either, to keep you on your toes.
After nine books, that there are any surprises at all are a joy; and also after nine books, you know broadly what you're getting. This is a smart, funny murder book, with a splash of British history, and a soupcon of magic. If you're a series regular, this is worth reading - and if you're not, you can always give it a try.
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