The Memory of Blood (Bryant and May)

Anglophiles and mystery-ophiles rejoice when Christopher Fowler produces another novel in his Peculiar Crimes Unit series, featuring the highly idiosyncratic detective due of Arthur Bryant and John May.  Since I count myself among both of those groups - I believe there is a large overlap - I do too.  But I have to say that I am not quite feeling the irrepresible joy with The Memory of Blood so far.  Somehow it seems duller, less funny, and while Bryant is, as usual, off chasing some seemingly completely unrelated tangent, less charmingly oddball.  The tangent seems pretty obvious to me, why shouldn't a member of the unit track it down, and Bryant is of course the man for the job, being the one steeped in the arcana of both The Theatre, and London.  Still, I'm halfway through, and I don't think he's called anyone old sausage yet!  More to come.