William Boyd is the type of writer who wins awards. His first novel, "A Good Man in Africa," won the Whitbread Literary Award for best first novel in 1981. His second novel, "An Ice Cream War," won the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize. His most recent novel, "The Blue Afternoon," won the Los Angeles Times Prize for Fiction.

"Armadillo," Boyd's ninth book in 17 years, a comic literary mystery of sorts, should likewise please the critics. Lorimar Black, the protagonist, is an insurance adjuster. His job is to protect the company from fraud, or to help the company avoid paying what it rightfully owes, depending on your politics.

"We were the people who reminded others that nothing in this world is truly certain . . . Nothing is sure, nothing is certain, nothing is risk free, nothing is fully covered, nothing lasts forever."

Lorimar's own life is proof of the world's vagaries. He has a sleep disorder, his father abruptly dies, people are out to get him, and he is having an affair with a woman who is married and, even more troubling, is an actress.

Boyd's adjective-laden writing tends toward the obvious, employing easily deciphered metaphors, symbols, and counterpoints that don't add much resonance, but seem primarily intended to elevate the set-piece-oriented comedy.

Still, this is a solid book, engaging and quite funny, but I was left wondering why Boyd is considered one of the preeminent British writers of his generation. He doesn't even seem to quite get a Kink's song, "David Watts," from which one of the minor characters takes his name.

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