This is the fourth and last of the Henry Grave series of cruise-detective novels I have read. It was as much fun as the others, but i have to admit this one was beginning to feel too formulaic. Grave is as old, as hungry, as lusty, and as clever (but a bit addled) as usual which often brings a smile, but it’s a more tired smile.
This voyage, Henry is helicoptered by the Association of Cruising Vessel Operators, to a Russian ship where it a particularly vicious murder has taken place, one that appears to have been committed by a cannibal. Not to give anything away, the plot involves a plant that blooms every seventy years, an ethnobiologist, an old nemesis, rabbits, Alaskan indian natives, a wendigo, and a shaman. (The author is an archaeologist, after all.)
A very pleasant way to spend an afternoon. I suggest reading the series in order. I’m now off to read one of Doonan’s non-Grave novels. 3.5 rounded up to 4 stars.