The Stainless Steel Rat by Harry Harrison

Dear Harry Harrison.  It has been over a quarter of a century since I read anything by him.  He is always good for a rip-snorting tale that goes and goes and never lets up.  That is exactly what you get with The Stainless Steel Rat.

James Bolivar diGriz, known in criminal and law-enforcement circles as "Slippery Jim", is the Stainless Steel Rat - a person perfectly adapted to survive in a world made of concrete, steel and glass.  

Slippery Jim is a highly adept confidence trickster, thief and master of disguise.  Things have gone well for diGriz until one day when a greater criminal mastermind gives him an offer he can't refuse.  His mission: to capture a still greater criminal mastermind who is threatening to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting galaxy.

Harrison has given us a utopian/dystopian vision of a far-flung future where humans have colonised the stars.  The galactic community is wealthy, prosperous and peaceful, and its citizens have all their basic requirements met.  On the other hand, stability is bought with a combination of chemo-psychology and a zero-tolerance approach to criminality.  Aberrant people like diGriz tend to get "wiped".

The stakes are high for diGriz as he tries to outrun the law while tracking down his target.  Can he win through and still maintain his identity?  In posing this problem, Harrison keeps the action moving from one adrenalin-fuelled moment to the next. He lets diGriz provide the first-person narrative, and we get an insight into the intriguing mind-set of an intelligent, confident and self-justifying misfit.  

All up, The Stainless Steel Rat is a solid suspense story full of thrill and spills.  Well worth the time if this is your kind of thing.

I listened to the Brilliance Audio spoken-book version narrated by Phil Gigante, who did a sterling job of evoking the energy and spirit of Harrison's tale.

Casino Royale by Ian Fleming

Neuf á la banque.  

It is one of those odd coincidences: the first James Bond movie (Dr No) and the first Beatles single (Love Me Do) were released on the same date.  Both Bond and the Beatles were to dominate the popular culture landscape of the Sixties, but who would have ever suspected that on 5 October 1962?

The Beatles have come and gone, as has Ian Fleming, but James Bond is still going strong, with the latest installment in the Bond movies, Skyfall, being released 50 years after Dr No.  Having seen all the Bond films but never having read an Ian Fleming novel, I thought I would kick off with the first in the series, Casino Royale (1953).

The plot is quite a simple one: Bond's assignment is to bankrupt Le Chiffre, a union organiser and suspected Soviet agent, by playing cards against him at the casino in the French resort town of Royale; Bond's cover is blown even before he arrives; attempts are made on his life; he meets a beautiful woman and falls in love; and he survives.

He does survive, but he does so mostly through sheer dumb luck rather than by any skill on his part.  It is surprising, in the light of what we know of Bond from the movies, how bereft of skill he is.  He really is an ordinary, flawed human being, subject to the passions and fears that inflict us all; however, the ending of the book leads us to believe all that is about to change.

Fleming's portrayal of Bond is quite nebulous.  We find out a few things about Bond: he likes the finer things in life, he knows how to play the card game baccarat, and he has killed other men.  Other than that, we don't really learn much more about him.  Perhaps it is this lack of characterisation that allows the reader to identify to some degree with an ordinary man in an extraordinary position.  

Still, Casino Royale is a suspense novel, not high literature, so we shouldn't expect too much of it; and as far as suspense novels go, it is a competent but not masterly effort.  Short (it can be read in an afternoon) and oddly compelling, it does make you want to find out what happens next.  Accept the book for what it is and reading it becomes an enjoyable and entertaining experience.

Ian Fleming, bless him, takes a chapter to tell the reader how the game of baccarat is played, and another chapter to show it being played.  So if you have ever wondered why the croupier in the Bond films keeps saying 'neuf á la banque', all is made clear. 

And if you want to find out the significance of the nine of hearts, you will have to read the book.

The Power-House by John Buchan

Looking for a quick read on a rainy afternoon?  Then The Power-House by John Buchan may be just the thing. 

First published in Blackwood's Magazine in 1913, The Power-House became a favourite of the British soldiers during the First World War.  Short - it is about 100 pages long - it could be read in what little time the soldiers had to themselves.

Sir Edward Leithen, a lawyer and politician, lives in London.  He spends his usually uneventful days shuttling between home, work and his gentlemen's club.  

Nothing exciting happens to him until one day his wealthy friend disappears, leaving behind an incomplete letter hinting at great danger.  A second friend goes to Russia in search of him, and Leithen is left behind to look after things in their absence.  He regrets that he is not the one having the adventure, but he need not worry on that account: adventure comes looking for him in England, and soon Leithen is running for his life.  The future of Western civilization is in his hands, if he can only stay alive long enough.

As is usual with a Buchan story, the action starts almost immediately and does not let off from its break-neck speed until the final climax.  As we have come to expect, Buchan's prose style is beautifully descriptive and evocative without ever being in danger of becoming overblown.  Of course, there are gaping holes in the plot, and coincidences that strain credulity; however, these are all part and parcel of Buchan's style, and if the reader accepts them in the spirit they are given, then a rollicking good time is assured.

The Power-House is the first of the Sir Edward Leithen novels.  While it doesn't have the good-humoured charm of John Macnab, the second in the series, it does have the punch and vivacity of The Thirty-nine Steps, the first of the Richard Hannay novels.  And I look forward to reading the third in the series.

I read the 2007 edition published by Polygon Books.

The Man Who Was Thursday by G.K. Chesterton

The Man Who Was Thursday is a very interesting novella.  I have not read one that is quite like it.  Here is the rub: if I say too much, I spoil the strategy and novelty that Chesterton has employed to make for an interesting and thought-provoking story.

I suppose it is safe enough to say that Gabriel Syme, a poet, is introduced to a dangerous and clandestine organisation operating in London and Europe.  The more he becomes entangled with the members of this group, the weirder and more dangerous become the events that entangle his life.

Chesterton moves the action rapidly from basements to backstreets, from coffee shops to vacant fields, with a deft hand.  The action rises surely and steadily, culminating in a hectic climax.  This is followed by an unsettling denouement in which Chesterton's devices are fully revealed.

I am glad I read this story.  Of course, the ending won't appeal to everyone; but if you are looking for a short, fast-paced thriller with a difference, here it is.

The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan

It is 1914.  Europe is on the brink of war.  Richard Hannay, an engineer who has just returned to London from Rhodesia, meets a  mysterious stranger who says he has information vital to continued peace in Europe; however, within a few days Hannay is on the run, suspected of murdering the stranger.  He is pursued across Scotland by both the police and a shadowy organisation called the Black Stone.  Can Hannay avoid capture or death before he can deliver the stranger's evidence to the British Foreign Office?

I enjoyed this book.  Buchan has no problems setting the scene and then getting the action going.  And it goes and it goes.  Buchan has a wonderful talent for narration and description - and his ability to describe landscapes briefly but evocatively is second to none.  Plotting, ahem!  The plot has holes large enough to drive a steam train through.  Still, the whole point of this kind of book is to thrill, and it helps to have a healthy ability to suspend your disbelief.  If you want logic, read Bertrand Russell.

The Thirty-Nine Steps was written in 1915.  Some of the language is less than politically correct and a bit shocking to post-holocaust sensibilities; other than this, Buchan is able to use language with a great facility to turn his tale into a riveting page-turner.

I have seen several of the film versions of The Thirty-Nine Steps.  My favourite is the 1935 version starring Robert Donat and Madeleine Carroll, and directed by Alfred Hitchcock.  Although its plot diverges in many ways from that of the book, I can thoroughly recommend it as a piece of suspenseful entertainment.