The Devil You Know

It's an interesting concept (Dashiell Hammett style stories in a London filled with ghosts, zombies, and loup garou) but the book's tics and affectations make it too annoying to be excellent. The main character is frustratingly dense, failing to make the most obvious connections, but all the while talking down to the reader as if he's a grizzled expert. And Carey has the maddening habit of using an expression and then apologizing for it as hackneyed or corny.

There's enough here to have me interested in other books in the series, and the plotting of this one was compelling enough to keep me engaged, but I can't help but think how much better it could have been.