As ever in Michael Connelly's work, Los Angeles - a city in which 'no matter how close it something looked, it was still far away' - is a character in its own right. And the jazz soundtrack - 'plaintive and sad but ... with an undeniable underlying hope' - makes The Burning Room a superb swansong.
a master of narrative tension, complex but believable plotting and three-dimensional characters ... his latest novel maintains the same high standard and relentless impetus that keeps one turning the pages.
It's a good story, but crucially The Burning Room shows Bosch on top form, his age no impediment to his stubbornness nor his professional insights
what Connelly delivers here - as ever - is a slice of classy, clever, page-turning stuff, as Bosch and his excellent new sidekick trace the shadows of years-old crimes whose tendrils stretch through the echelons of LA society and across the sprawl of its geography. The detective is described by his boss - 'the one that knows the most in the troop. Has all the experience.' Connelly, too, is a pair of eminently safe hands, and The Burning Room is a pleasure to read.
Connelly weaves his story as deftly as always, never slackening the tension
Connelly has lost none of his fire, nor his desire to take his readers by the throat and never let them go
a taut and believable tale set in a grimly recognisable world where those at the top - be they career politicians or career criminals - share a disregard for the lives of those they exploit.
A master at construction, Connelly finds a way to link the two cases, which burrow deep into Los Angeles's Latino community. As often happens in Connelly's police procedurals, Bosch's meticulously built case is undermined by political corruption in high places, leaving him 'suddenly sick to death of everything'.