Prose by any other name Revealed: J.K. Rowling is writing as Robert Galbraith. Now that unknown author Robert Galbraith has been outed as Harry Potter creator J.K. Rowling trying but failing to fly under the radar, it's time to assess the strength of a crime novel that is already whizzing past the Dan Browns and the James Pattersons on the bestseller lists. The case of The Cuckoo's Calling thus proves what publishers and booksellers know only too well - that a rose by any other name would not sell nearly as well. In the world of publishing as in many others, it's all about the "brand" and the power of celebrity. Ironically, The Cuckoo's Calling is all about brands and celebrity. The woman whose untimely death sets the plot in motion is the beautiful, troubled supermodel Lula Landry (not her real name). The private investigator hired to investigate her apparent suicide is Cormoran Strike, a moniker that might well have graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Strike, the illegitimate son of an ageing rock star and a famous groupie, knows all about the perils of fame. While the topic of celebrity culture might be symptomatic of a Google-driven present, The Cuckoo's Calling is also, endearingly, rather old-fashioned. The blurb suggests this is a "classic crime novel in the tradition of P.D. James and Ruth Rendell." On the contrary, in its arcane verbiage (wordy) and tone (gently humorous and ironic) with a male private eye as an astute observer of a fallen world, The Cuckoo's Calling is much more like a cross between the intelligent golden-age crime fiction of Dorothy L. Sayers and the stylish hard-boiled detective stories of Dashiell Hammett. Like Sayers, Rowling is keen to parade her erudition; the frequent Latin epigrams derive from a range of classical authors, while the title is borrowed from a poem by Christina Rossetti. Like Hammett, Rowling is also a clear-eyed and unsentimental observer of people and place. Enter 25-year-old Robin Ellacott, an attractive strawberry blonde who has just become engaged to her long-term and clearly boring boyfriend, Matthew. Recently arrived in London, Robin is working her way through a series of secretarial jobs as a "temp." This endeavour brings her to the office of former Special Branch Investigator Cormoran Strike, just as his enraged former girlfriend bursts out of the building. Cormoran and Robin collide at the top of the stairs. Given Cormoran's size (1.9 metres) and bulk (he may be missing half a leg courtesy of a tour of Afghanistan, but he is also a tad overweight), this encounter results in the slighter Robin coming off rather worse for wear. It's a screwball comedy moment. Thus begins what will develop by increments into a respectful relationship marked by small acts of thoughtfulness. Realising Cormoran has been rejected by his ex, Robin politely ignores the fact that her new boss is camping out in his office. Like the best kind of Enid Blyton heroine, Robin chooses to embrace her inner sleuth and get on with the job of locating the coffee and biscuits while also gathering undercover intelligence. Meanwhile, Cormoran rapidly comes to appreciate Robin's discretion, talent for subterfuge and, most importantly, punctuation. Cormoran's investigation into the apparent suicide of Lula Landry takes him into the homes of the wealthy and spoilt as well as the disadvantaged and desperate. One of Lula's former "best friends," Rochelle, is an "uncompromisingly plain" young woman from an encounter group for depressives. While Rochelle talks about their mutual bipolar disorder as "an illness," what Cormoran hears is "uh nillness," which strikes him as a particularly apt description of Lula's fate. Another of Lula's former besties is the fashion designer Guy (pronounced Gee) Somé', whose last photo shoot of Lula wearing nothing but his handbags could belong in a current edition of Vogue featuring a similarly attired Kate Moss. Despite his impressive bulk, Cormoran is an endearing chap whose "methodical and thorough" approach to investigation involves allowing "the witness to tell their story in their own way." While this is often entertaining - Rowling has an ear for accent and dialogue - it is a tad laboured at times. This clunkiness culminates in a denouement involving one of those improbable expository scenes in which (nearly) all is explained. The premise of the plot is ultimately hard to swallow. Plot, however, is hardly the issue. The Cuckoo's Calling is a beguiling romp in a genre roomy enough to accommodate Rowling taking a few well-calculated swipes at the culture of celebrity while setting up a neat double act for a series. A sequel is already in the works. Robert Galbraith Sphere, 464pp, $29.99