CATCHPENNY

A supernatural thriller set in a mystically bent Los Angeles of dark enchantment, looking-glass larceny, and apocalyptic gaming.

Whatever you do, don’t call Sid Catchpenny a detective. He prefers “thief” and so does everybody who crosses his path, whether they like him or not. Nonetheless, it’s Sid’s peculiar talents as a “sly” (a thief who’s able to literally walk in and out of mirrors) that set him on the course of a missing-persons case that’s weird even for a rococo urban fantasy like this. Indeed, Circe, the enigmatic 16-year-old Sid’s looking for, isn’t just “missing.” According to her mother, Iva, “She is. Gone....Missing is like she’s somewhere not where you left her. My sunglasses are missing.…My daughter is gone.” And so we’re off on a hallucinatory adventure rife with the kind of extreme violence, false leads, and hairbreadth escapes you find in thrillers only amped up with 1980s-style rock lyrics, video game arcana, and a mysterious force dubbed “mojo,” defined loosely (if not always clearly) as magical essences gathered from the emotions invested in objects, whether it’s the piece of carpet where a beloved dog used to sleep, the Sinéad O’Connor T-shirt Sid wears in memory of his murdered lover, Abigail, or a stuffed bat Circe’s mother clings to as a remnant of her daughter’s childhood. The more mojo one carries around in this world, Sid tells us, the more power one has—and the more power one gets, the more damage one can do. Which is something Sid fears may be happening with Circe and the company she’s probably keeping, including suicide cultists and online gamesters obsessed by something called Gyre, whose content has demonic and potentially world-ending powers. As his passage in and out of mirrors yields more clues, more mojo, and greater peril, Sid is confronting his own painful past with its bad dreams and depressive interludes. The book’s heavy rush of ornate imagery, outlandish villains, and exotic set pieces can get so intense that the reader may at times feel disoriented. But Huston’s writing packs a rock band’s hard-driving propulsion along with an electric guitar’s plaintive lyricism. You may at times feel as lost in the ether as Sid. But you can’t help sticking with his pursuit to its chaotic finish.

If mojo is another word for magic, then this novel’s loaded with it.