As fans of this series know, Brunetti loves his family and his familiar comforts. Long lunches, ideally in the family apartment, are chronicled in detail, allowing a vicarious tasting of such midday repasts as fusilli with black olives, mozzarella, and fresh basil, followed by calamari stuffed with carrots, leeks, "perhaps even chopped shrimp." Such breaks make it easier for Brunetti to deal with the harsh realities of his job, made worse when an autopsy reveals the 11-year-old victim was infected with a venereal disease. They also cushion Leon's bleak world view for her readers. On one level, Leon's books function as gastronomic tourism, rich in calorie-free thrills. But in Leon's Venice, beautiful as it is, corruption runs rampant. Although the crime horrifies and disgusts him, Brunetti is warned against investigating the most likely suspect: "You might want to commit professional suicide," says his usually stalwart colleague Vianello, "but I don't." Ultimately, this case is not entirely solved, and the likely murderer manages to bribe his way clear.
Perhaps because of this grim outlook, "The Girl of His Dreams" continues Leon's trend away from straight-ahead mystery. Although this is clearly crime fiction, and Brunetti's combination of interview and intuition remains vital, the murder mystery aspect is almost secondary. Instead, the book deals as much with social issues and the idea of family as with the central crime. The murdered girl is a Gypsy and the investigation calls up both prejudices and uneasy campaigns for political correctness as Venice becomes home to more foreigners than the native born.
But Leon is deft at showing the personal in the political. The book opens with the funeral of Brunetti's mother, and his own thoughts on family and its obligations play into his investigation of the crime as well as his relationships with his brother, his in-laws, and a local priest who has requested a favor.
