Black Butterfly: A Secret Service Thriller

The insatiable Lucifer Box returns in the latest wild entry in this hilarious yet thrilling series. Here the author has Ian Fleming squarely in his satiric sites and the opening Bond parody is sensationally funny. The pace is breakneck and there are more laugh-out-loud moments as the case unfolds for our slightly long-in-the-tooth hero. If anything this book is too short and you may want more - I certainly hope this isn't the last in this unique series.

The first thing I noticed as I picked up Black Butterfly (Lucifer Box Novel The Last) was how thin it was in comparison to The Devil in Amber. A quick page check confirmed the sad news: Black Butterfly offers only 204 pages of rousing adventures and dark, delectable mysteries. Being an engrossing trilogy so far, the combination did not bode well for making this one last longer, teasing out the story with inordinate displays of self-control a few pages, perhaps even a chapter per day to extend the experience. In fact, at 204 pages the only promise Black Butterfly presumes with guaranteed witticisms, sharp humor, and delightful puns is the inability I would have in exerting my will power to put the book down. Instead of taking my time with this book, I jumped in with the same abandon I'd imagine Lucifer would recommend. After all, life's short and there's a lot of books I want to read! Black Butterfly is Lucifer's swan song. His last adventure is filled with even more surprising revelations and a charming cast of puns intended to belay the wonderfully unsubtle and disarming humor and innuendos I've come to embrace and expect from a Lucifer Box novel. Lucifer has grown respectable in his old age (much to his regret); his years with the Royal Academy have been kind and his reputation and accomplishments have helped him rise through the ranks effortlessly to become the latest Joshua Reynolds. Finally the boss, Lucifer flirts with retirement, still determined to give it all one last go before his MI6 replacement (Allan Playfair) can settle in for the long haul. Before Lucifer can wind down properly, there are matters to attend to. Namely, the funeral of beloved friend, Christopher Miracle, dead from mysterious circumstanced framed as a suicide and dropping off his son for an international scouting competition. The product of a more recent indiscretion, the boy arrived at his doorstep on Yuletide Eve and in the spirit of the moment Lucifer named him appropriately enough, Christmas Box. As unparental as I'd imagine Lucifer to be, Gatiss thankfully agreed and the "Father and Son" moments are hilariously awkward, grudging, and distracted. Considering Lucifer's extracurricular activities, this made for an excellent plot development, especially for the last book in the trilogy. Why I hadn't thought of this inevitability before is beyond me, but the surprise was worth the obliviousness. When we last saw Miracle, he was suffering the lasting effects of psychological and physical injuries acquired during the first World War. However changed, he remained more or less stable, a soft shadow of his former self. But his funeral is a somber, confusing event. Lucifer is convinced Miracle was in no danger of committing suicide. Leaving the cemetery nursing a wounded ego (his advances spurned by a younger woman not interested in older men) and troubled by his friend's death, Lucifer determines to drink himself into oblivion at the Blood Orange, a club owned and opera

What a lush I am. I've been waiting and waiting for this, the third Lucifer Box book by the embarassingly talented Mark Gatiss, and wouldn't you know that instead of savoring it, I guzzled it down like a gin soaked rummy. Oh, well, as was the case with "The Vesuvius Club" and "The Devil in Amber," I'll just have to read this again (and again). I want to write more. However, I don't want to spoil a single surprise or revelation. Lucifer Box is indeed back; older and wiser, and yet as randy as ever. Everything we've come to know and love about a "Box book" is here in spades: the adventures (amorous and otherwise), the indelible characters (outlandish names and all), the sex (Box is an equal opportunist in the bedroom, or the barroom, or the floorboards, or the alley...), the wit and the imagination. Whimsical, preposterous and compulsively readable; who could ask for anything more? Me. More. I want more Lucifer Box books.