In his novel Potshot, Robert B. Parker does his take on "The Magnificent Seven." Spenser heads out to the Arizona desert to take on a horde of marauders terrorizing a small town. He brings with him a complement of the most dangerous thugs that he has encountered. The plot itself manages to be both lightweight and convoluted. It brings in Los Angeles gangsters, real estate developers, and crooked law enforcement. However, the primary strength of Potshot lies in the characters and dialogue. 6 of the most interesting (and toughest) recurring characters of the Spenser series appear in the book, and the interplay between the group is worth the cost of the book by itself. The plot isn't spectacular, but the joy of the assortment of thugs Spenser recruits all working together makes it all worthwhile. The dialogue is excellent and quite funny, and the characterization is superb. It's definitely more lightweight than some of the better Spenser novels, but it also is fun. Definitely a worthwhile read.

But it's more on the level of the misnamed Magnificent Seven. In other words, what could have been a wonderful homage (Parker certainly has the gift--I actually moved to Boston because he made the city so real!) struggles along but never pans out. The plot is thin, the character interactions -which could have been wonderful- are pedestrian, and the climax and resolution are a let-down.

It's probably a good-enough read if you never make the Seven Samurai connection, but when you boil it down and skim the fat off, there's not much left.

This is actually a great book! The reason for the one-star will become known soon. I'm not sure Parker is drinking too much Sam Adams (There is a G-d) or I'm not drinking enough when I purview this dribble. Since I was a teenager about twenty years ago, my friends and I still delight in passing around his books and making fun of them. From his books, we can drive around Boston since he gives such detailed directions of each turn of his car and I can cook some nice recipes learned from Spenser's magically stocked refrigerator. I haven't figured out how he affords food when in most books, he charges his clients $1.00 to solve the case. A Spenser economics books would be welcome.
Anyway, on to my review of this book. I got it because I am in the middle of a lot of things and wanted a momentary distraction from time to time and needed a book I could pick up, read a few pages, put down and forget. A Parker book all the way!
Now, for you long time devotees like myself (Parker peaked at Catskill Eagle, by the way) let us not forget that Parker and Hawk go back to the Korean War. Say, Parker and Hawk joined up at the age of 18 in 1952 and spent one year there until it ended and this book was published in 2001, that would make them both 68 years old.
Keep that in mind when you read on how all the women drool over Spenser in this book and he can beat up two guys in their 20s. From there on in, Spenser does his amazing work by sitting in a big house in a desert with a bunch of toughs that just say 'OK' when Spenser says 'I need you, drop everything.' He makes a few phone calls while drinking a lot of beer and gets all law enforcement, civil servants and even the FBI to do all his detective work. It's good to know Fedex comes out to remote areas of the desert overnight. Next time I go hiking and get in a bind, I'll be sure to have a satellite phone and order up a few cases of Deer Park and pizza, Fedexed overnight. All I can say is that these guys are tougher than me. If I was in the house with them and all their gay jokes, short jokes, and ethnic jokes of middle school cleverness, I would have run out and asked the bad gang to shoot me.
Anyway, I hope you read it and enjoy these books like I enjoy John Woo movies. If you want the tip on that one, just know that every thing you see in a Woo movie will blow up. So, now you can watch the Woovie with friends and just place bets on when the helicopter, building, mine, train, plane will explode..ok, now I'm digressing. Read this book to pass around and have some laughs about later like all his books. Parker spreads joy this way. Bless you, Parker. Keep them coming! Next book, I want a 75 year old Spenser, who is better looking, benches sets of 400, beats up mafia hitmen, and quickdraws multiple attackers.
Happy reading!!!

When a gang of thugs runs rough-shod over a town and a nice lady comes to Spenser to ask for help finding out who murdered her husband, Spenser finds himself in Potshot, a small town in the desert. It is never made really clear whether it is in California or Nevada or Arizona or where exactly in the desert it is, but apparently there is an abandoned mine nearby and a gang of thugs has taken over the mine as their base of operations (they call themselves the Dell) and now they own the town, selling "protection" to the businesses and using the services of the town as they wish. Spenser quickly realizes things are not as they seem; after bracing Preacher (the leader of the Dell), Spenser believes the Dell are not responsible for the murder, at least, and he heads to LA to try to find out more about the murder victim and his wife, as well as some of the other members of the community.

Spenser ends up gathering a few of his friends to join him back in Potshot, so we are treated to a rare gem when our old friends Hawk, Vinnie Morris, Chollo, Bobby Horse and Bernardo J. Fortunato as well as a new friend - Tedy Sapp - are all gathered together in one place. The witticisms are thick on the ground when everyone is in one place. I believe that alone makes this one of my favorites in the Spenser series. Not to be missed!

This is a zero star Spenser. The "good" bad gang VS the "bad" bad gang. Odds are 40 bad bads against 7 good bads. But the FBI and unknown spooks are FedEx'ing printouts of phone and bug taps of the "worst" bad guys. 40-7 ... we need this band of 7 in Iraq. This is more than childish leg-pulling by the author - it's actually disrespectful of Parker to serve out this as Spenser material to anyone who can read. Hawk personally bows his head in shame at being written into this dribble.