Some authors really carry a publisher, producing profits that are out of this world. I will never forget seeing one editor of a major house smiling and boasting to a colleague about having record sales despite the overall tough times for the industry. The ebullient editor crowed, "We have two new books this year from Michael Connelly—-one featuring a brand new character!"

It was similar to HarperCollins' regular giddiness when they have a new Lemony Snicket, or the good times experienced by booksellers and publishers when J. K. Rowling writes a new Harry Potter book. James Patterson writes and releases four books a year and has crossed over into the middle readers market--much to his publishers delight. St. Martin's probably plans their budget with one eye to Janet Evanovich's deadline for a Stephanie Plum novel. Branding may work, but it also raises the question of whether the quality of these books will suffer from over-production.

Back to Michael Connelly and the point of my musings: Connelly is the author of thirteen Harry Bosch detective thrillers and five fast-paced stand-alone heart-stopper mysteries, as well as some short stories and screenplays for television. After many years in L.A., Connelly now lives in his native Florida, but he still brings the streets of L.A. alive like no other crime writer. Whether Bosch gazes at the skyline from his balcony in the hills (as Miles Davis or Coltrane riffs float over the lights), hugs the curves of Mullholland Drive while in hot pursuit, or--as in the new novel--explores the neighborhood around Dodgers Stadium known as Echo Park, the city comes to life and breathes in Connelly's pages.

Echo Park finds Harry Bosch still out of retirement and working the unsolved cases. This time around, he's on a case that's haunted him for thirteen years: the murder of Marie Gusto, who disappeared from a supermarket, and whose car was found near a stable where she worked and rode. A serial killer, now incarcerated, is set to confess to the murder, and in reviewing the file, Bosch finds a clue he'd missed the first time around. Our brooding detective finds plenty of fodder to fuel his self-doubt and to inspire relentless review of the case, most of it outside the rules and protocols of the L.A.P.D.

By putting Bosch back to work, Michael Connelly cleverly sets up a new take on his "old" detective--one in which he has a set of rules to break--rather than continuing to work the outsider status of a retired or private detective. In working the unsolved cases, Bosch has to accept assignments from insiders with all sorts of motives, some not quite on the level.

Anyone worried that Michael Connelly is losing his edge by putting out so many novels and keeping his publisher afloat can be assured that Echo Park delivers, as did Blood Work, The Poet, and other favorites. Also, just when the puzzle pieces seem nicely fitted together, Connelly throws in another motive, an unexpected twist that unwinds in the book's final pages.

Whether he's thrilling a reader or injecting a trail of black into an accountant's bottom line, Connelly is a writer of lucrative appeal. Personally, I'm sold—-and eagerly anticipating his next installment.

Review by Sarah Bagby, November 2, 2006