I was very disappointed by this book. I have read every book James Swain has written, and perhaps because of this I set the bar too high. Or maybe I am just growing tired of his style - he does use the same sort of phrasing in all his books (i.e., he would be a great writer, only he uses this phrase too often). Probably though, it is the subject matter of the book that is its downfall.

The story revolves around a psychic magician in New York city. A real psychic, we are asked to believe. I have no problem suspending disbelief -- I enjoy fantasy fiction as much as the next guy. The problem is, what makes James Swain's books usually so engaging is entirely unsuited for this task. I enjoy Swain's writing (especially the Tony Valentine series) because Swain plays the expert - he knows all the secrets of the con games and you get a peak at that world as the reader. The style is the same here, only the topic Swain plays the expert at is entirely fictional. Of course he can let us in on the secret ways psychics communicate with the dead - he made them up. What usually feels like fiction based on lesser known facts becomes fiction pulled out of his ass. How can we possibly relate to the predicaments of the characters when you know the author can make things possible or impossible as he needs to?

Hopefully Swain will scrap this loser series and start fresh with something he can speak authoritatively on, such as magic (the performance art) or con games.