Straley’s book tries to be music. One thing: it is not mystery. People die, get hit, blown up, fight, but there is only confusion, not anything truly hidden--well, one thing is pulled on the reader to end the book, but it doesn't really matter. The plot really gives Cecil, the inept but persistent investigator, reasons to listen to everyone, watch everything, and sometimes be helpful. He also gets to travel through Alaska and describe the geography, peoples, and creatures in great detail. The writing flows when he stops to talk about nature, which he often does in the middle of the action. The descriptions of everything natural or human is in close focus. You could draw the scenes after reading them. And the people are never completely bad--alcoholic, deranged, crazed, doped out, or woman-chasing, maybe, but not evil in the Sherlock Holmes tradition. The main thing to remember is this book worships Alaska first, dwells on the characters next, and finally has a plot. But as I have said about his other books, that's fine with me. ( )