Maybe Spenser's driven all the bad guys out of Boston. Which is too bad because on his home ground, the tough and tender PI and Hawk, his trusty sidekick, don't need a gang of other guys to do their work. And the hired guns they round up to help them clean out a nest of ne'er-do-wells who have the desert town of Potshot, Arizona, terrified aren't nearly as amusing as, say, John Dortmunder's criminal colleagues in Donald Westlake's caper novels.

The thugs who populate the Dell, a scrubby little enclave just outside of town, have the locals in their pocket, which is why the pretty blonde who hires Spenser to find whoever killed her husband points him toward the Preacher, who rules the Dell and its denizens. But Spenser's not as certain as his client that Steve Buckman died at the Preacher's hands. As our hero and his ethnically diverse but politically incorrect henchmen (one gay shooter, one Latino, one black, one Native American--all that's missing is Annie Oakley) investigate, it turns out that Spenser's right, as usual. The action ranges from Las Vegas to L.A., Atlanta to New Mexico, but much of it is a humdrum travelogue as Spenser rounds up his gang from all over the country to take on the Preacher and his musclemen. While Potshot isn't one of Robert B. Parker's best, it's still not bad. The one or two lines devoted to introducing Spenser's backup buddies don't begin to do any of them justice, and there's a lot more description of the artillery the guys pack than usual. But they do fill up the white space, and when the action lags, there's always Susan's dirty talk, shopping jones, and dietary obsessions to divert the reader. There's a midlife crisis somewhere in this evergreen series that's just waiting to erupt. Whether it's Spenser's, Susan's, or Parker's, however, remains to be seen. --Jane Adams


From Publishers Weekly
HThe Spenser series remains fresh after 28 novels in about 30 years. How does Parker do it? Through recurring characters as alive as any in fiction, and through exceptionally clean, graceful prose that links the novels as surely as do the characters. The author also refreshes himself through other writings the Sunny Randall series, for example, or Gunman's Rhapsody, a tale about Wyatt Earp that Putnam will publish in June. So even when Parker resorts to a bit of gimmickry, as he does here, the vitality of his storytelling prevails. The manifest gimmickry is Boston P.I. Spenser's corralling of sidekicks from previous novels Hawk, of course, but also gay Tedy Sapp from Hugger Mugger, sharpshooter Chollo from Thin Air, Vinnie Morris (from several novels) and a few others to deal with trouble in the Arizona town of Potshot. Spenser is hired by a sexy blonde to look into the shooting death there of her husband, who tangled with an outlaw group known as the Dell, which for years has extorted the citizens of Potshot. There's an eventual shootout, of course (there are enough parallels between this tale and that of Wyatt Earp to guess that Parker's forthcoming Earp novel inspired this one), but not before Spenser digs into the town's secrets, uncovering the expected but in detail, always surprising domestic mayhem and corruption. Genuinely scary villains, sassy dialogue, a deliciously convoluted mystery with roots in the classic western and Parker's pristine way with words result in another memorable case. (Mar.)Forecast: A BOMC Main Selection, this novel will hit the charts, as Spenser novels do. The gimmick involving the many sidekicks should only help sales and may even draw back a few readers who have strayed from the series.Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.


From Library Journal
Spenser, Parker's famous sleuth, goes west to find a murderer and clean up a nest of mountain hoodlums in the 28th installment of the series. After reconnoitering Potshot, AZ, the scene of the crime, he decides he needs reinforcements, so he calls in allies from around the country. These dangerous men a Native American, an African American, a Georgia cracker, a Mafioso, and a homosexual provide much of the book's humor, as Parker has fun with stereotypes, and reader Joe Mantegna has fun with accents. The characterization of women is equally stereotypical, but less amusing to this feminine ear. Parker's women are there to provide sexual tension and little else, a fact that Mantegna emphasizes. He raises the pitch of his voice and slows the pace and successfully insinuates that sexual conquest is uppermost in the characters' minds. This will be popular with Spenser fans and those who don't mind political incorrectness. Juleigh Muirhead Clark, John D. Rockefeller Jr. Lib., Williamsburg, VACopyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc.


USA Today
Parker still talks the talk.


From AudioFile
Spenser, the intrepid Boston sleuth, heads west to aid a damsel in distress in Potshot, Arizona. But all is not as it seems in Potshot. Spenser is called upon to hire a band of thugs to rid the town of a renegade gang. Reader Joe Mantegna, who plays Spenser in the A&E movies, gives vocal identity to the splendid band of rogues Spenser recruits. Wiseguys and tough guys from Boston, Las Vegas, LA, and Georgia join Spenser and his sidekick, Hawk, for the fight to the finish. Spenser books are as much about character as about plot. Mantegna ably captures the spirit and emotion of the people, as well as the ambiance of the place and the tension of the predicament. In the end, Spenser retains his virtue, and, true to the Old West, he and Hawk ride off into the sunrise in their rented Explorer. T.J.M. © AudioFile 2001, Portland, Maine-- Copyright © AudioFile, Portland, Maine


From Booklist
Here's a real treat for fans of the long-running Spenser series: a sort of class reunion in which Spenser and all his favorite fellow tough guys get together to trade quips and bang a few heads. In a combination parody of and homage to The Magnificent Seven, Spenser takes on the job of clearing out a gang of "mountain trash" who are intimidating the residents of Potshot, Arizona. Even the supremely resourceful Spenser needs a little help with this one, so he drafts six of his compadres from previous adventures. There's the imperial Hawk, of course, Spenser's costar throughout the series, but in addition, this rainbow coalition of right-thinking thugs includes Latino Chollo, Native American Bobby Horse, gay ex-cop Teddy Sapp, and lovable mobsters Vinnie Morris and Bernard J. Fortunato. Much of the fun here is in the pregame strategizing between the players, as the ever-sensitive Spenser tries to avoid as much bloodshed as possible, and his henchmen argue for the efficiency of a guns-blazing ambush. (The master of understatement, Hawk merely rolls his eyes at Spenser's tough-guy morality and mutters, "Being your faithful Afro-American companion ain't the easiest thing I've ever done.") In the end, of course, there's plenty of violence (as we knew there would be) but not so much as to keep the thugs from their horseplay, much of which involves delightfully deadpan commentary on one another's racial and sexual characteristics. If the idea of mixing The Magnificent Seven with a touch of Blazing Saddles appeals to you, saddle up with Spenser and Hawk. Bill Ott
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

FROM OUR EDITORS

The Barnes & Noble Review
A number of excellent books -- Stephen Hunter's Hot Springs, Elmore Leonard's City Primeval, and George Pelecanos's Right as Rain come immediately to mind -- have successfully bridged the gap between the classic western and the hard-boiled novel of suspense. The latest addition to this genre-bending list is Potshot, the 27th entry in Robert B. Parker's durable, long-running Spenser series. In this one, Parker takes Spenser -- and a supporting contingent of latter-day samurai -- out of the familiar environs of urban New England and turns him loose in the Arizona desert, where he finds himself enmeshed in a modern reenactment of The Magnificent Seven.

The case begins when newly widowed Mary Lou Buckman hires Spenser to investigate her husband's death. Mary Lou lives in the upscale, faux-western town of Potshot, Arizona, which has recently been victimized by gang of extortionists collectively known as the Dell. The members of the Dell -- led by an enigmatic, Lee Van Cleef-like figure called the Preacher -- have been threatening local businessmen and forcing them to pay for "protection." According to Mary Lou, her husband, Steve, refused to pay and was murdered as a result. Spenser, who has always been a sucker for a damsel in distress, heads for Arizona, determined to set things right.

Once in Potshot, Spenser receives a second commission. Local civic leaders offer him an extravagant bounty to drive the Preacher and his cohorts out of town. Spenser contacts Hawk (of course), and a number of hardcases from previous adventures, and prepares to push back against the entrenched forces of the Dell. From this point forward, the two main lines of the story -- the hunt for Steve Buckman's murderer and the proposed assault on the Dell -- intertwine, culminating in a series of unexpected revelations and a climactic, archetypal gunfight.

In Parker's hands, western and detective story come smoothly, seamlessly together. And while the machismo quotient runs a bit too high for my taste -- Spenser and his ad hoc posse spend a bit too much time comparing gun sizes and staging push-up contests -- the narrative unfolds with characteristic wit, brevity, and grace. Parker is one of the most polished stylists working in the field today, and his typical virtues -- crisply described action sequences, understated humor, and drop-dead accurate dialogue -- are on full display once again. Potshot, like so much of Parker's fiction, is effortlessly readable and unfailingly entertaining. It effectively combines the narrative conventions of two different genres and reaffirms its author's position as one of the reigning masters of contemporary suspense. (Bill Sheehan)

Bill Sheehan reviews horror, suspense, and science fiction for Cemetery Dance, The New York Review of Science Fiction, and other publications. His book-length critical study of the fiction of Peter Straub, At the Foot of the Story Tree, has been published by Subterranean Press (www.subterraneanpress.com).

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Boston P.I. Spenser returns-heading west to the rich man's haven of Potshot, Arizona, a former mining town reborn as a paradise for Los Angeles millionaires looking for a place to escape the pressures of their high-flying lifestyles. Potshot overcame its rough reputation as a rendezvous for old-time mountain men who lived off the land, thanks to a healthy infusion of new blood and even newer money. But when this western idyll is threatened by a local gang-a twenty-first-century posse of desert rats, misfits, drunks, and scavengers-the local police seem powerless. Led by a charismatic individual known only as The Preacher, this motley band of thieves selectively exploits the town, nurturing it as a source of wealth while systematically robbing the residents blind. Enter Spenser, called in to put the group out of business and establish a police force who can protect the town. Calling on his own cadre of cohorts, including Vinnie Morris, Bobby Horse, Chollo Bernard J. Fortunato, as well as the redoubtable Hawk, Spenser must find a way to beat the gang at their own dangerous game.

FROM THE CRITICS

Marilyn Stasio - New York Times Book Review

There is a trick to keeping the faith with an old hero without letting him slip into redundancy, or worse, self-parody, and in Potshot, his 28th novel in the series, Parker shows us exactly how he does it.

USA Today

Parker still talks the talk.

Newark Star Ledger

Parker is as good as they get.

Book Magazine

These things almost write themselves, or so it must seem to Parker. Take the hero, P.I. Spenser, add a few cute scenes with his long-time girlfriend, Susan, and their aging dog, Pearl; add additional scenes with sidekick Hawk and, lately, associates Vinnie Morris, Chollo and Tedy Sapp, among others; add to this a client who needs help and you have the formula for another installment in Parker's long-running series. This time out Spenser and his motley crew head off to Potshot, a small Southwestern town where his client's husband has been murdered, claims the widow, by a gang of ruffians who have the town in their grip. The local law seems ambivalent, so the town leaders ask Spenser to help clean things up. The story ends up being about water and property rights and has the obligatory organized-crime connection. Even though less is not always more, Spenser fans will probably forgive Parker, again, for his brand of minimalist fiction. —Randy Michael Signor (Excerpted Review)

Publishers Weekly