'Devil's Chew Toy' by Rob Osler
- Reed
- Apr 30
- 2 min read
Updated: May 8
Author: Rob Osler
Rating: B
Vibe: Quietly quirky gay cozy with soft suspense, reluctant sleuthing, and just enough heart to keep you invested.
Quick Take: Fresh, funny, and gay to its core, this debut delivers a satisfying caper—though a bit of tightening wouldn’t have hurt.
Hayden McCall isn’t the kind of protagonist who usually leads a mystery series, and that’s the first thing the book gets right. He’s not a brooding detective or a snarky genius. He’s just a shy, self-deprecating teacher with a modest blog and a knack for ending up in the middle of something he didn’t ask for. That sense of ordinariness—of someone clearly out of his depth but trying anyway—is what gives Devil’s Chew Toy its charm.
The setup is quick and clever. Hayden goes home with Camilo, a flirtatious go-go dancer, and wakes up the next morning with a black eye and no sign of his new friend. The police don’t seem all that interested, so Hayden takes it upon himself to figure out what happened. Along the way, he’s drawn into Camilo’s orbit—meeting his friends Hollister and Burley, who are skeptical at first but become unlikely allies in the search.
Their friendship is one of the story’s quieter pleasures. There’s tension, especially early on, but also a shared sense of loyalty that feels earned by the end. Hollister in particular stands out—not polished or noble, but complicated in a way that feels honest. Her inability to let go of someone she knows is wrong for her? We’ve all seen that up close. Maybe even lived it.
Osler’s writing has a wry, breezy tone that keeps things moving, even when the plot wobbles a bit. The humor never feels like it's trying too hard. It’s more situational—rooted in Hayden’s awkwardness, the absurdity of amateur sleuthing, and the unexpected companionship of a dog named Commander who, honestly, deserves his own spin-off. Hayden’s attachment to the dog adds warmth and grounding to a plot that occasionally leans cartoonish.
And that’s the one major knock. While the emotional beats mostly land, some elements of the mystery strain credibility. The logic of who does what and why doesn’t always hold up under scrutiny. It’s not a dealbreaker—especially not in the cozy mystery genre—but it keeps the book from hitting that next level. A little more restraint or a slightly tighter edit could have sharpened the payoff.
Still, what makes Devil’s Chew Toy stand out is how unapologetically gay it is—not in a wink-and-nod way, but in its bones. The story opens in a gay bar. The missing person is a gay man whose life isn’t sanitized or side-charactered. Hayden’s gayness isn’t a twist or a trait—it’s the lens through which the story unfolds. It’s rare to see a mystery where being gay isn’t just acknowledged but centered, and even rarer to see it done with this much ease and lightness.
It’s not groundbreaking. It’s not gritty. But it’s sincere, fun, and often genuinely sweet. And sometimes, that’s all you want.
