This was a fun book, a chance find in the Fremont library written by a left wing historian and ex cemetery groundsman. Just shy of three hundred pages of pulp noir, crossbreed with ancient occult, and some wrestling. Come to think of it, that sounds mental.
I’m not sure if it deteriorated as it went on, or if I was losing my mind by reading 150 pages in one long burst. There’s drugs, there’s Filipino vetenarians who have friends with a side gig of magical aphrodisiacs, there’s magic shops, there’s real magic, there’s gangs of skateboarders and a drug manufacturing subplot that is dropped from above like a plot twist ex machina.
So it’s a fun ride, but now it’s over I’m not quite sure who or what I am. Read it if you want a version of James Ellroy that’s a laugh a minute, crossed with a Liberal H P Love raft who wasn’t a horrible racist, and takes pains to show that.