by John D. MacDonald
There is something reassuring about a Travis Mc-Gee novel. Once a year or so, the "creaking knight errant" tilts against whatever windmills need spearing in the world-according-to-MacDonald. This time McGee tackles the Church of the Apocrypha, an eerily familiar religious cult whose converts are given terrorist training. (After the climactic battle, McGee describes the scene as "my own little Jonestown.") As befits the subject, this is a cheerless work, with the title figure—a child's spoonerism for "the grim reaper"—lurking on every page. The beach bimbos, McGee's bear of a friend Meyer and the boat he won in a poker game, The Busted Flush—regulars in the carefully crafted cosmos of the 18-book series—are barely glimpsed this time. As always, though, the pace is fast, the commentary sharp and the prose as lean and leathery as McGee's sun-tanned hide. Bring on No. 19. (J.B. Lippincott, $9.95)
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