The eighth installment in the history of the Peculiar Crimes Unit, Bryant and May Off the Rails feels, for lack of a better word, comfortable – at least at first. For fans who’ve gotten this far in the series, the running gags – the incompetence of upper brass, the threats to close the unit down unless an impossible timeline is met – are old hat, and it just wouldn’t be the PCU without at least a nodding reference or two. Indeed, even Fowler seems to be taking them a great deal less seriously than usual, as evidenced by the use he makes of the disintegrating architecture of the PCU’s new HQ.
Where the book does get serious and interesting, however, is in the investigation of the two crimes that drive the plot. One, the murder of one of the PCU’s own by local psychopath Mr. Fox, inside their own headquarters, is a shock to the entire unit, and puts the genial clowning of Bryant and May into sharp relief. The other, the seemingly unconnected murder of a young woman on the Underground, draws the rather mature detectives into a rather more technologically driven affair than Bryant, at least, is used to. And linking the two is the vast subterranean maze of stations, tunnels, disused tube lines, and humanity that is the Underground.
To long-time readers of the series, the banter between squad members and slightly fusty ambiance are old hat. What’s interesting, however, is that there’s more than the usual glimpse of the steel underneath, the determination that drives the aging detectives in their somewhat unusual approaches, and the care they have for their charges. To read Off the Rails just for the standard PCU hijinks or clever deduction, both of which are present in abundance, is to miss the sense that things have quietly taken a bit harder line.
As for the detection itself, the PCU books have always been more about the elegance of the construction of the crime and its solving, and less so about rock-ribbed procedural work. Off the Rails is no exception, and those looking for an airtight piece of detection may well be frustrated. Where the crimes – and their solutions – are satisfying, however, are as emotional constructs. They make sense on a character level in their commission and their resolution, and for the sort of shaggy-dog storytelling that the PCU embraces, that’s more than enough.
(Bantam, 2011)
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