On My Shelves: Mick Oberon

The Mick Oberon series by Ari Marmell is a common recommendation to those who enjoyed Jim Butcher's Dresden Files. And there are certainly a lot of similarities. The following description applies, more or less, to both:

A wisecracking PI who happens to use magic as well as more traditional methods keeps getting mixed up in magical hijinks out of his league in his home town of Chicago. His magic, unfortunately, conflicts with the newer gadgetry of the modern world, and he often tries to avoid having to use said gadgets. He may be considered something of a weirdo by most of the cops, but he's got a few decent contacts, maybe even friends, on the force. He spends a lot of his time trying to avoid being mixed up with the Fae, because any dealings with them are perils nobody wants, but still often ends up having to do so anyway. He tries to avoid getting mixed up in organized crime, too, but – similarly – can't always do so; he has one crimelord who he can depend on for assistance, though there may be a price for that help. He also has more power than he shows, although for various reasons he doesn't dare use it in most cases. And his love-life is at worst nonexistent and at best… complicated and infrequent.

Despite this surface set of similarities, though, Harry Dresden and Mick Oberon are pretty different. Firstly, they take place in a very different setting. Dresden's Chicago is generally that of "today" – the post-2000s, a world of computers and media. Mick Oberon lives in the heyday of the hardboiled PI, the 1930s, the era of Prohibition. That alone separates the two series by a wide margin.

The primary difference between these characters is that Mick Oberon ("Not O'Brien!") isn't human. His last name is literally correct; he is related to the Oberon, King Oberon of the Fae. This drives more than one of the plots and defines Mick's capabilities and limitations. The Fae are beings influenced by human thoughts and drives, but they are still inhuman and vulnerable to certain things – such as cold iron. In addition, the operation of complex "dead" machines like automobiles and telephones cause him considerable pain, weakening him.

Mick's Fae nature also allows him to heal much faster, and better, than human beings do. A lovely perk of not being human… which Ari Marmell uses to let Mick take all the typical beatings of a hard-boiled private eye in the 30s and not end up crippled or brain-damaged. (In Butcher's Dresden Files, turns out wizards regenerate too, which explains Harry's inhuman resilience. Mick, however, heals a lot faster than that… as long as he's not hurt with cold iron.)

Unlike many magic-slingers in fiction, Mick's powers are subtle in action. No fireballs or earthquakes or quick-killing spells here; Mick's use of magic is almost entirely focused on luck. He can do something quite frightening in its implications: drain the luck from one object or person or area and put it elsewhere – such as into himself or other people. Thus his adversaries suddenly trip over a rolling tin can and smash themselves into the wall, while Mick jumps off a building and just happens to find there's a load of hay underneath.

There are, of course, other forms of magic, some of them the blasty-zappy kind, but Mick almost exclusively uses his luck-magic; this is partly because he's chosen to be more human, more ordinary than he really is. By implication in various parts of the books, this is because the original Fae that became Mick wasn't necessarily a very nice guy, and taking up his full power might make Mick back into who he was. He doesn't want to be that person again, and so he pretty much avoids anything but the luck-based magic – and to be honest, if you've got enough luck, you almost don't need anything else.

But only almost. You also need brains and guts and maybe a few friends. Fortunately, Mick has all of those, though usually only barely as much as he really needs, and sometimes people that seem friendly aren't, and those that seem hostile may be less so than appearances would say. This is naturally par for the course for a hard-bitten PI story.

Flavorwise, these novels are very well-written period adventures; Mick and his compatriots speak the actual lingo of the 1930s, something that takes a bit of getting used to if you're not familiar with it from the start.

Mick himself grows on you; at first you're not quite sure what to make of him, but as the background – from Mick's particular view of Chicago to the hallucinatory bizarre Fae version of Chicago that sits just the other side of reality from the mortal world – comes more into focus, we see what kind of a terrible dance Mick has to do, while trying to live a putatively normal life.

This is a world with bootleggers and mobsters who may also get a witch to put a curse on their opponents, where a politician may look to get an edge with the right mystical trinket, and where the Fae may have their own secret operations crossing between worlds. Evil-eye curses, ancient Egyptian magic, succubi and redcaps, Mick has to deal with them all, with one eye on his bank account and one on the safety of Chicago, and wishing he had about four more eyes to watch his clients, the Mob, local corrupt politicos, and the Fae.

But somehow Mick has managed – so far – to keep himself alive. And even, once in a while, to get a decent fee.

Currently, there are three Mick Oberon novels – Hot Lead, Cold Iron, Hallow Point, and Dead to Rites. A fourth, In Truth and Claw, is due out later this year. I had a lot of fun reading these, and I would certainly recommend them to anyone who likes urban fantasy with hard-nosed detectives (with a hidden heart of gold).