Wow!  Dick Francis has done it again in Silks (published in 2008). For years Francis turned out books that were great fun, thrilling mysteries set in the racing world.  After his wife died, Francis announced no more books would he write, that her companionship and help had been too instrumental to his work.  Thankfully after a few years Francis realized that his books are the greatest tribute he could make to her; with his son Felix Francis, he co-wrote Dead Heat. Truly, that book was not so good.  So it was with much trepidation that I read the latest mystery co-written by father and son, and I am very happy to say that it is right up there with some of Francis’ best novels.

To Francis fans, Silks continues with the well-used formula we have come to love:  corruption in the racing world, either in business or in personal life, and the man who just cannot let it go; the man is a self-deprecating but thoroughly heroic hero; the female love interest is wholesome but plucky, good looking but modest, sometimes frightened but always loyal; the plot twists and turns on questions of identity and responsibility; anonymous threats propel action; just when you thought you could take a breath and relax, there is a final encounter between good and evil; and all in all the story is well-told with a satisfying ending and all nastiness taken care of.  This book adds in a resolute action by the hero that is spine chilling and cracking, and quite gratifying as well.

Other Dick Francis favorites of mine: Longshot, Banker, Hot Money, Bolt, Proof, Twice Shy,  Reflex, and Whip Hand. I did not like the short stories in Field of Thirteen.