I wasn't able to finish this book. Oddly, for me, I wasn't able to get very far into it. I made several attempts, but it didn't work. It may just be the wrong book for me now.

Things that threw me out of the book:

The prologue consisted of infodump, on the architectural history of Minneapolis. I'm a history buff, and it was dull. All of it was stuff the author needed to know, but I wasn't convinced that I, the reader, needed it. (Infodump has to be earned. If it has to happen, it comes later, when the reader can't follow the plot without it.)

Footnotes. I love footnotes. This book had too many, and they weren't helpful. References to previous volumes in the series, in correct bibliographic form, credited to JH Watson, ed. L Millett, stopped me cold.

The diary of Dr. Watson. A nice conceit, but the author doesn't have Watson's voice down, and it rang false. It felt precious and forced.

I was already on the verge of quitting when I got introduced to the protagonist. He's an Irishman, in St. Paul, in the late 19th century, and he both watches his weight and has an African American business partner. That pushed me over the edge, and I quit. ( )