“The Pintara cycles west along the Cahill, the most deplorable urban scar in a town of deliberate mistakes. A villainous strip of four grey lines they slapped on the quay like a tax. Like a punishment. Down with perfection, the nation’s ugliest road in contest with the world’s most ravishing view.
Rawson slows to drink the water. The bridge, the quay, the mighty house of shells. Milling beyond them is a northside sea, blocks of jealous lego squinting through hard art-deco eyes. They gaze at Bennelong like its enemy clan – a tribe that never learned the making of towers”

Winter Traffic is the first novel by Australian author, Stephen Greenall. Sydney, 1994: the police investigation into the brutal murder, in his own home, of Justice Angelus Koestler seems to have stalled, and the big brass have decided to apply some fresh talent. Detective Karen Millar, lately of Internal Affairs, is determined to clear the case. Against all expectations and advice, she chooses Detective Sergeant Edward Michael Rawson as her partner. Rawson may have intimate knowledge of the case, but just now, he has other fish to fry.

Life for Rawse is not running too smoothly at present: gambling debts, problems with teenaged daughters, eviction and a curious journalist are matters more pressing than answering the persistent pages from Karen Millar. As well, the wrong types seem to be after his mate, Sutto. Jamie Sutton has been busy taking care of a few particular problems with ruthless efficiency, but he knows nothing he does will keep a certain crime boss off his tail.

Greenall has created a fast-paced tale with an original plot whose twists and turns keep the reader guessing while remaining wholly believable. The intricacies of the plot will stay in the mind of the reader long after the last page is turned. His descriptive prose easily evokes the Sydney of the mid-nineties, and his characters, their dialogue and their behaviour are similarly credible.

It’s a story that touches on police corruption and includes the copious consumption of drugs and alcohol, paedophiles, gambling, quite a lot of violence and several murders, a frame-up and an explosion. Theories on past, present and future, and on justice are expounded; mateship, loyalty, and a dog and a cat also feature.

The descriptor “Literary Crime” is accurate and apt: the hard-hitting drama, the flawed protagonists and (often black) humour are contained within some gorgeous prose. “The louring sky was supposed to lighten and moderate, see reason, give way to cold but clear winter’s day. Instead it got cranky and resorted to spite, its best remaining power. As they hit the Shire it darkens and twenty minutes later it’s hovering about their ears, knocking at windows, converting itself like a drummer gone from jazz to rock. The wipers start out casual, on-call – then they get brisk and then manic and then unequal to the task. It’s bloody pissing down”

Greenall’s very individual style and format (chapters numbered in reverse like a countdown, double chapters) may take a bit of getting used to, but patience and persistence is rewarded with a compelling read. Not everything is spelled out for the reader; some things are merely alluded to or implied and the reader has to come to their own conclusions.

There is plenty of humour, to which the plentiful nicknames, the banter between characters and a good dose of irony contribute in no minor way, and it’s no small compliment to say that Rawse may remind readers somewhat of one Cliff Hardy. This is a brilliant debut novel and readers will be eager to see what Greenall comes up with next.