don't call this noir

Contrary to what it claims this book is not a noir but a lame mystery and even intense story that misses the interplay of well composed conversations, well described scenes and catchy- and often "hard boiled"- plot a "noir" must have - and last but not least a main character, the "hero", whose a personality is the "key" to the whole story.

Exactly this heroine I had in mind when the book advertised an Asian American female investigator, as such a personal background might indeed offer a very specific perspective over a scenery set in L.A.

However I was proven otherwise...

The main character a young woman qualifies for beeing a private eye with nothing more than a liking of Chandlers Philip Marlow. [Philip Marlow is misused as the "raison d'etre" at length as she can't do anything without surprising what Marlow would or would not have done and that she is not Marlow when she does something or Marlow is not her when she omits something Marlow would have done. (stop. repeat) ]

This character trait evidently outweighs the need for any other elaborate plot and it suffices to say she is somehow coincidental Asian, has two friends from college and is asked by one of the two to follow an other young woman who might have an affair with his dad.

Having established this fact the story jumps right to an unbelievable situation where she finds a dead body in her trunk but decides not to go to the police and to ignore the warning that comes with it. Because that's what you do if you're in your mid twenties and it doesn't help that she is telling us the story how her sister got suicidal and how she found out why.

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