Pelecanos is Washington DC's native son. He was born and raised here, and he writes about the city with knowledge and passion. This is the DC that residents--the real, born and raised kind--know and visitors rarely see. It's gritty, lived-in and real.

This is the second in Pelecanos's series of detective thrillers featuring Nick Stefanos, a hardened, not-quite-down-on-his-luck bartender who moonlights as a private investigator (or maybe it's the other way around -- I was never quite sure). He runs into an old friend, relives some old times (quite literally) and takes on the case of finding his friend's wife.

It's a fairly straightforward mystery, but Pelecanos tells it in a gritty (there's that word again) first-person narrative that makes it engaging. This is the kind of story Hammet would write were he alive today. It is unflinching, which makes the uncomfortable parts of the story even more uncomfortable. I was particularly troubled by the way most of the women in the book were portrayed as objects of sexual exchange, with few feelings and even less worth. Although Stefanos vindicates himself somewhat at the end by exhibiting great sensitivity to some of these women, it wasn't enough for me. I found the approach off-putting, and because of it I won't read any more of this series. Which is unfortunate, because the story-telling is quite good.