I first read Macdonald Harris’s debut novel back in 2013 and rated it an excessive 8/10. It’s the farcical story of an assortment of crackbrained hereditary nobles cruising the med in a superannuated pleasure steamer under the supervision of a jovial Armenian Svengali and his masturbatory English lackey, while a mysterious super criminal plots a seaborne stickup. I didn’t leave any notes of that first read, so I don’t know what caused me to overlook the too-leisurely buildup with its unnecessary back-storying of minor characters, the somewhat tiresome villain, or the determined superficiality of the whole story. That said, Harris’s drily ironic prose is already a joy, the epicurean affability of his worldview is on early display, and if you like his more well-known novels and/or are a fan of closed environments, microcosms, collections of eccentrics, or midcentury Mediterranean vibes, this is worth seeking out. ( )