Sri Dao, a Thai girl smuggled into Frankfurt for its flourishing sex trade, has vanished without a trace, and her fiance is desperate to find her. Kayankaya, the orphaned son of a Turkish locksmith turned German garbage collector, is as hardboiled as Philip Marlowe, as smart-mouthed as Easy Rawlins. As Kayankaya unravels the mystery of Sri Dao's ...
Sri Dao, a Thai girl smuggled into Frankfurt for its flourishing sex trade, has vanished without a trace, and her fiance is desperate to find her. Kayankaya, the orphaned son of a Turkish locksmith turned German garbage collector, is as hardboiled as Philip Marlowe, as smart-mouthed as Easy Rawlins. As Kayankaya unravels the mystery of Sri Dao's disappearance, he leads the reader on a breathless chase through the seedy underbelly of a modern metropolis - its world of illegal aliens, corrupt cops, hustlers, and pimps no different from that of the urban jungle in any major US city, its hapless "undocumented" victims subject to the same heartless pattern of greed and hate. And who else but Kayankaya, himself the butt of the racist taunts of his compatriots, would know how to respond to the challenges of trying to survive in the margins of society?
New in new dust jacket. First English translation edition first printing of the third novel in the Kayankaya series. In fine / fine unread condition. Sewn binding. Paper over boards. Audience: General/trade.
Publishers Weekly, 1997-02-10 Proving that the classic hard-boiled PI plot can survive-and thrive-in an exotic setting, Arjouni continues his pungent series about the Turkish-German private detective Kemal Kayankaya (introduced in Happy Birthday, Turk!, 1993). Like his creator, Kayankaya is the son of Turkish guest workers and gets very little respect from his adopted country. Landlords in Frankfurt don't return his calls; immigration officers and cops treat him like dirt; he has a hard time getting a beer in a seedy bar. As he says of the local citizenry after a rich client mistakes him for an Asian, "...they are `international' down to their Parisian underwear-but they're not able to recognize a Turk unless he's carrying a garbage can under his arm and leading a string of ten unwashed brats." This particular client, an "average shmuck from Frankfurt's West End" named Weidenbusch, wants Kayankaya to find his missing Thai ladyfriend, who seems to have been kidnapped by gangsters preying on illegal aliens. Arjouni has plenty of twisty surprises in store. He also has a light touch for pithy description ("Charlie's head reminded me, to a regrettable degree, of a double helping of pork knuckles topped with a permed thatch of sauerkraut") which, helped by poet Hollo's deft translation, adds considerably to our pleasure. (Mar.)
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