The Children of Eve marks the twenty-second entry in John Connolly's Charlie Parker series. I've found myself wondering, in the past, when this series might start losing steam, even as I celebrated the release of each new entry and consistently found myself psyched to be granted early access to read the latest book thanks to the fine folks at Atria/Emily Bestler Books. I've read plenty of other series that fizzled out well ahead of hitting double-digits, let alone surpassing two decades of surprisingly consistent derring-do.
I'm not ready to count Charlie Parker and author Connolly down and out just yet, but there is a faint air of tiredness surrounding this endeavor. Parker, after all, is now in his fifties and the accumulation of so many wounds over the course of his PI career have left a lasting mark. He wakes up in pain most days, and his sleep is oftentimes troubled. As one character remarks, he's been at death's door so often, Death has left a key under the mat for him. He's slower, creakier, achier.
For a book that is ostensibly about the abduction of a Mexican cartel leader's children, The Children of Eve feels all the duller. It doesn't help terribly much that Parker only makes brief appearances in this installment, with the focus centering more on the cartel's killers, the bookish Seeley, and an unnamed woman with a penchant for carving out the hearts of her victims. Both pale in comparison to earlier villains like Pudd, The Collector, the cult of Prosperous or The Cut.
Coming in at over 460 pages, there's an awful lot to keep track of between the shifting points of view, the various targets and killers, the minor footnote that is Parker's investigation into a local artist's missing boyfriend and how that connects to everything else, but there's no real sense of momentum or focus to it all.
The Children of Eve feels like an interstitial segue between Parker's overarching mythology, a book that Connolly had to write in order to bridge what's come before with what comes next. He drops plenty of hints about what's to come, particularly between Parker and his daughters, Sam and Jennifer, one living and one deceased, that posits a truly compelling triangle between the living, the dead, and what lies in between and ever after. The downside, of course, is that teasing us with all these elements that are ostensibly better than the surrounding material is a vicious bit of cockteasing. Clearly, Connolly is saving all the good stuff for a later book, and it's frustrating he couldn't find much else of equal interest to insert here.
As an avid fan of this series, I don't believe there's such as a thing a "bad" Charlie Parker book, but there are certainly lower-tier entries. This is one of them, but Connolly dangles just enough hooks in the water to bait you in for the next one.