Sweet & Salty Reviews - Both of Us by Edgar Cantero

Beware of the spoilers!

The Dish

This Body’s Not Big Enough for Both of Us was published by Titan Books in 2019. It is a ‘quality over quantity’ brunch at 283 pages and quite moreish. I’m a slow reader and I finished it in three days.

Henceforth referred to as Both of Us, this book serves up a traditional detective noir burger, with meaty action scenes, cheesy one-liners and bread-and-butter genre staples. But, because the chef is Cantero, the bread is a bizarre sourdough concoction, the cheese is artisan and the meat has been swapped for pineapple.

The story stars A.Z. Kimrean, a P.I. who offers a literal two-for-one deal because they’re actually two people in one body. Adrian is a (mostly) high-functioning sociopath, while Zooey is an easily-distracted hedonist with poor impulse control and bad personal hygiene. Imagine if Sherlock Holmes had been forced to cohabit with femme-Deadpool and you’ve about got it.

Together (or, more accurately, separately at the same time), they are investigating the murder of a crime boss’s son before a gang war breaks out and the undercover cop caught in the middle finds himself in hot water. We all know the recipe, which is why Cantero throws it out of the window and writes his own.

The Sauce

Both Adrian and Zooey control roughly half of their body and are, generally, aware of what the other does. The change in persona tends to be shown by which heterochromic eye is currently most alert. Adrian has a drug that can send Zooey to sleep. Important for the finale.

The Sweet

The tastiest ingredients of Cantero’s dishes are his characters and his prose. Both of Us is no exception. Like Meddling Kids, I gobbled up every line of dialogue, every broken fourth wall and every self-deprecating narrative quip, then realised I was at the end and started shaking the book for more. I’m still waiting on my second helping.

The two main characters provide conflicting and complementary flavours. Most detectives in noir are hard-boiled. Kimrean is scrambled. Zooey is a good, if eccentric, egg, while Adrian has all the makings of a villain if shaken incorrectly. By the end of the book, I had grown to view Adrian as a contagonist rather than a hero. Zooey, on the other hand, is the real main character - the aforementioned slice of pineapple. Unexpected and vibrant at the core of the book. Additional flavour comes from Danny Mojave, the undercover cop/damsel-in-distress, and Ursula Lyons, whose role overpowers the bland tastes you normally associate with female characters in detective literature.

Speaking of female characters! The most delicious part of the entire book is the twist that lands like a fat ladleful of unexpectedly spicy, rainbow coleslaw within the last sixty pages of the book. Since I already flagged for spoilers earlier, I’ll say that the ‘killer’ Kimrean is investigating is actually the hero of her own story because who honestly cares about gangsters anyway?

Juno’s revenge murder spree could have been the star of its own book. I’d liken it to the intensity shown by the Rock in the movie Faster. Zooey’s easy-going mildness is the perfect counterpoint to Juno’s all-cylinders rampage. The book is probably worth reading for the last fifty pages on its own.

The Salty

It is very difficult to pick flaws out of this book without seeming pedantic. It’d be like criticising the sesame seeds stuck in my teeth after I already scoffed the rest.

Cantero has some allowable weaknesses in his writing. In places, he tells rather than shows, but it feels like this is done knowingly and for effect rather than absently and lazily. He also peppers dialogue with tags that go beyond the usually accepted ‘he said, she said’, and yet, somehow, I don’t mind. Maybe it’s just writer’s palate that hates those?

The book is also strewn with gristly pop culture references. I was still picking pieces of old movie out of my teeth for a week after finishing the book. Pop culture references can be great when they are recognised and effectively used. Danny Mojave’s face looking like Schwarzenegger’s when his helmet broke on Mars summoned a striking and immediate image. Some other references just fell flat for me, and this is the crux of the issue. And I wonder at the appropriateness of referencing a sci-fi movie in a detective noir parody. It felt like an M&M in the burger.

There are also a few examples of the Bronson Effect, but I get the impression this was also deliberate.

Presumably you now also see what I mean about needing to be pedantic. But, like Zooey has Adrian, sweet has salty.

The Aftertaste

Both of Us is a stronger novel than Meddling Kids in just about every way. The antagonism between Adrian and Zooey kept me chewing through pages, the secret ingredient surprised the shit out of me and, on the whole, I came away satisfied. This was in opposition to Meddling Kids, where two-thirds of the way through Cantero dumped a fistful of cheese in my genre soup. For those who don’t agree with/believe me, I have two words for you: ‘helicopter gunship’.

But I’m not surprised that Meddling Kids is a New York Times bestseller. It’s just the way the industry works and Cantero deserved the recognition one way or the other.

Granted, the dish I have described in this review won’t be for everyone (cheesy, sourdough pineapple burger with spicy rainbow coleslaw anyone?) but, since I don’t care about everyone, it’s really your decision whether you like it. I do like it, and I’m looking forward to more of Cantero’s work, whatever form it may take.