Now, while others will rush to proclaim as much, I'm not saying Something's Down There is Spillane's best. His 1947 debut, I, the Jury, remains one of the finest crime books ever, and a damn tough act to follow. That said, this new one is just as tough to compare to the rest of the catalogue.

Whether it was seminal P.I. Mike Hammer, Tiger Mann (The Day of the Guns) Morgan the Raider (The Delta Factor), or Dogeron Kelly (The Erection Set), the common thread of any Spillane novel revolved around "a bomb of a man." Taken on its own, that was never a problem. In fact, the testosterone rush is exactly what turned on 140 million or so in the first place. Taken as a whole, the cookie cutter became so rote that Spillane eventually fell more or less out of print, on this continent anyway.

Gone from this novel, however, is the comic book schtick. The new man, Mako Hooker, is a retired government spook content to live the good life. Between fishing and living in a seaside shack, he's actually mellow, and that's as nice a change as the third-person narrative.

With a wink and a nod to everyone from Peter Benchley to Ernest Hemmingway, Hooker isn't catching much of anything when fellow fishermen fall prey to what survivors can only describe as "the eater." This being Bermuda, incidents are written off to Triangle lore, shark attacks, and conspiracies. But as boats keep going down, Hooker learns to trust fishing mate Billy Bright, who insists that something really is down there, something else entirely.

With news reports filtering the phenomenon to monster proportions, Hooker is reluctantly pulled back into service by his former employer, The Company, a covert U.S. government agency. Otherwise, the main trouble in paradise is a Hollywood production company scum-bagging around with more zeal than CNN.

Although forever anti-Hollywood and anti-government, Hooker's nonchalant about it, for a while at least. But dammit-all if the job isn't hindered by film flacks and efficiency experts. So yes, even beyond their initials there is more than a pinch of Mike Hammer in Mako Hooker. But unlike the most rugged of all individualists, Hooker is trying to finesse this one by working with those close to him. And he's trying hard, man, even though circumstances eventually force him into acting alone, throttling the plot towards a vintage twist with a modern edge.

As much he'd hate the sound of this, Something's Down There might be Spillane's most literary work. Good and bad, the characters are deeper, more hesitant, and more dimensional, making for a mature, polished story, well told. At 85, it’s also the author's most autobiographical work, in that retirement beckons Spillane too, if only the stories would stop pulling him inside his own seaside shack.

Best of all, Spillane has emerged from the days of fedoras, bringing forgotten consequences into the here and now. Something's Down There is about a new world order, one of paranoia, perceptions, and just plain fear. Here, Spillane worries less about being sensational and more about perspective. And in an age where just about any respectable G-man short of Iraq's last information minister has learned the finer merits of wagging the dog, it's a tale that's needed now more than ever.