Contract Null & Void by Joe Gores

It's a cliche to say that mystery-thriller writers "weave a tangled web" in their novels.

The number of subplots Gores managed to cram into one novel a mere 300 pages long is

impressive. What's even more impressive is that he so quickly ties them up at the end.

A cyclist is forced off a cliff. A union leader is gunned down just before a major strike

vote. A boyish genius needs protection to sign a $500 million business deal. A DKA op is

hired to break into and scope out the home of a big politician; after he's caught by the

police, that same politician bails him out.

For 95% of the book, there appears no connection.

And although it's never connected, while the major plot lines are unfolding, we're treated

to the exploits of DKA op O'B near Eugene Oregon as he must dodge an out of work logger, a

trucker with a killer rottweiler and a small-time heavy metal band and their fans to

accomplish his repo missions.

That's the real weakness of this book -- it's hilarious. From "Great White Father" Daniel

Kearney taking over one of his agents' beds when Kearney's wife kicks him out of the house

to the scene when the beautiful union organizer knocks that same agent down the stairs (for

the second time) by socking him in his broken nose. And yes, throwing the hand grenade into

the giant Viennese windtorte full of whipped cream and strawberries -- tres magnifique!

It's a constant parade of weird disguises, unusual characters, bad jokes, social satire and

human foibles on display. And in the end the "good" guys win. Heck, even Little John (oops,

John Little) gets to keep his guitar. And Maybelle goes from emptying trashcans to a singing

gig at a major hotel.

Trouble is, most mystery and thriller readers want suspense, danger and menace. The

entertainment from such books comes from feeling an emotional involvement in the story by

liking and rooting for the main characters and hating the bad ones. Not to have a good belly

laugh.

Though it could perhaps serve as a good change of pace from those serious books of murder

and mayhem. Or it could serve as a good antidote to people who read Raymond Chandler and

think being a private eye is a romantic profession. No, dude, in reality it's all about

finding cars to repossess.

Unlike you work for DKA, in which case you may socialize with (and be sexually harassed by)

the elite wealthy, or hanging out in the Tenderloin (gay) district of San Francisco or tied

up in a yacht named for computer languages.

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