All of which fails to explain one thing: namely, how much I enjoyed reading the damn thing. Corris has a fiercely pared-down style that might best be termed ‘no-nonsense’, and the absence of the nonsense typically found in this type of story is the main strength of Comeback. The novel proceeds so steadily and unerringly towards its goal of solving the mystery that on the odd occasion when a tangential flourish is employed – Hardy quoting a lyric from Springsteen’s Nebraska album apropos of nothing is one of the oddest – it somehow works, when similar moves from other writers would induce the gag reflex. Refreshingly, the medium-boiled detective is also apt to pause from his determined search for the killer to take swipes at various contemporary targets, such as the hapless former Immigration Minister Kevin Andrews.

Comeback will have the very much unexpected consequence of sending me forth to the second-hand book stores in search of more Cliff Hardy novels, a sure-fire compliment in these times of too many books and not enough time to read them.