In this fifth book of the series, Travis McGee, happy in his semi-retirement and living on his moored houseboat, “The Busted Flush” is contacted by an old buddy named Sam Taggart. Sam knows Travis is in the business of recovering lost/stolen property, among other things, and convinces him to get involved in a complex plot to recover some pre-Columbian gold figurines worth over $300,000 (several millions in today’s dollars). But shortly thereafter, Travis finds his friend murdered in a hotel room and the chase is on. He joins up with Nora, one of Sam’s previous acquaintances and almost-bride, and together they follow the trail to the small fishing village of Puerto Altamara, Mexico.

There are surprises galore, deadly danger, and the usual women that seem intent on comforting poor Travis McGee. This is, I believe, the longest of all the books in the series and it tends to meander a bit too much for my taste. Travis takes the time to brood on many societal issues of the mid-1960’s and there seems to be a few too many unnecessary scenes as well as a huge cast of characters. The prose isn’t as lean and mean as most of the novels in the series. As such, while it is still necessary reading for completists like myself, I would recommend many of the other McGee books ahead of this one.

I am beginning to see why so many people are loving this series. The characters are not simple. The plots are real puzzles. And the ending, of this one, was poignant.

This one's a doozy. Another book, another dead woman in Travis McGee's bloody scrapbook. The dude already seems to selectively understand that his lady friends have an expiration date. What's the opposite of plot armor?

This one just didn't do it for me. I love MacDonald's writings and I usually plow through his books in a few days and this one took me almost a month.

A friend shows up to town to see McGee after a long absence, he gets killed, McGee wants to find who did it. That's it.

Didn't find the plot, the writing or the characters all that interesting. At one point I put the book down and picked up and read a different book just to keep myself interested. No idea why exactly this one didn't click but it didn't.

Some thoughts...
- It makes my eye twitch when he describes a woman as "big" when he means tall. He does it several times. He has no problem calling men tall, but when it's a woman, suddenly he forgets what words are...
- OMG, the sexism is off the charts. The worst example of which is when McGee just has to feel up a fucking MANNEQUIN!
- McGee's just irresistible sexual appeal. Come on... not a woman who can resist being in his presence that doesn't start calling him "dear" or "darling". The Bang-Count is five for this book. Five and a half. For a guy that talks big about not being a man-whore, he's kind of a man-whore.
- The 60's is just very very 60's. Apart from the rampant sexism, there's McGee taking a gun on a plane. But he gets away with it because it's "hidden". Isn't that adorable?
- Only 5 "flavors" so that's pretty good. Usually he talks about flavors every other sentence.

Oh, the story? Fine, I guess. A pretty high body count. The indifference of police to blatant crimes stretched believability.

Push it to 2.5ish really because I liked quite a few aspects of it and it tied its messy self up quite nicely and satisfactorily. It was vivid and lush and dramatic and complicated and I can see how it appealed to so many people (including one of my favorite authors). The layers of McGee and his thought processes are certainly intriguing. However, he sometimes got a bit precious in his self image so I feel he's at his best when he is kept busy. It's good for his soul. The book is also a strange balance of conscience and liberalism and morality (McGee shows a remarkably advanced outlook on conservation and what people do the planet for a book published in 1965 - and a character who is a cross between beach bum and freelance mercenary) and debauchery and cheapness and sexism (McGee goes about respecting women, admiring their strength, etc... and then casually sleeps with any number of them and sometimes thinking horrible derogatory things about them). Certain bits, shall we say, don't age well. On the other hand, some things are downright prophetic. "This is the heart of contemporary propaganda, amigo, to strengthen ignorant terrible men who believe themselves to be perfect patriots."

Dunno. Not gonna remember it months from now. Not crazy about the pseudo-philosophy in between violence and detection.