Die Trying by Lee Child

Having recently read “Killing Floor” I decided to read Lee Child’s second Jack Reacher novel “Die Trying”. On some levels it’s a very different proposition to the first novel.

For a start “Killing Floor” was written as a singular first person narrative. This gave it an immediacy and an individual viewpoint throughout. However, this writing discipline brings about certain restrictions. All of the action needs to be viewed through the protagonist’s eyes. Anything which occurs “out of shot” has to be eventually discovered by the protagonist to bring it into the plot.

Child has chosen to write “Die Trying” in the third person. This opens up a host of opportunities for a wider plot to take place around and beyond the immediate action involving both Reacher and a kidnapped woman claiming to be an FBI agent. The plot moves through so many complicated somersaults that the third person approach was probably the only way that Child could approach the narrative. However his skill as a writer is evident in the deft way that he handles the third person narration without losing any of the impact of his debut novel.

One key difference is that in “Killing Floor” all of the minor characters interact with Reacher and are obviously seen through his eyes. He becomes a filter for the reader. This constantly keeps him at the centre of the action. In “Die Trying” most of the minor characters do not interact with Reacher until the climax of the book; they have a life of their own, their own sphere of existence. This creates a very different dynamic to the book which is not a criticism, merely an observation.

Child is a master of pace and timing. Just like a sniper he knows when to squeeze the trigger, and he always hits his target with an uncanny accuracy.

As the action in the novel builds to a climax the set-up involves some complicated choreography. Child’s skill as a writer cuts through the complexity and makes the action clear, crisp and tense. For any budding thriller-writers it’s an object lesson in how to write within the genre. I have a feeling that I’ll be reading the other seventeen Reacher novels.

"Wake Up Happy Every Day" by Stephen May

“Wake Up Happy Every Day” is an astonishing achievement. Stephen May’s third novel centres around Nicky Fisher’s opportunistic decision to assume the identity of his dead friend Russell, and the catastrophic implications of this sudden choice. It is a brave and ambitious story which weaves together five narrative strands that slowly become connected. Often when an author attempts such a feat the potential danger is an epic fail; as a reader you only want to follow one thread and quickly become irritated by the other voices or the other stories. However May’s skill is to create an entire cast of characters that you care about, from the central protagonist and his immediate family through to even the most minor supporting character. As I was reading the novel I was trying to work out just how he achieves this, and my feeling is that it’s down to the individual voices, each distinct, yet each imbued with May’s own quirky observations. It’s quite a skill.

The novel is full of great little gems. I particularly enjoyed “I don’t understand why more people don’t embrace doubt, when it generally works so much better than the alternative.”

May’s tone is acerbic, belligerent and angry as he riffs on topics as diverse as loss, longing and cake. Indeed his views on the importance of cake in maintaining successful office dynamics struck a particular chord (probably a C# diminished!).

The plot structure is wonderfully, bizarrely left-field with an ambitious mix between first person narration and third person segments. The pace is relentless and the pages simply fly by before you can draw breath. It’s a novel that you read with a wide grin on your face, revelling in the complexity of the plot, and trying to determine just how the entire tangled mess can possibly be resolved.

Overall I found the novel daring, original and beautifully judged. I now keep recommending it to friends and feel certain I’ll be buying numerous copies to give as gifts (I’ve lost track of how many copies of “Life! Death! Prizes!” I’ve given as Birthday presents).

In the words of some marketing guru somewhere “if you only buy one book this year, make sure it’s this one”. What am I saying? If you do only buy one book this year you probably need to reassess your purchasing priorities!

The Farm by Tom Rob Smith

The Farm is a fascinating premise for a novel; two seemingly unreliable narrators who are the parents of the protagonist, Daniel. Tom Rob Smith’s skill as a writer is evident in the careful way he teases the plot threads out as Daniel’s mother Tilde uses her journal to relate a sinister tale to her son surrounding the parents retirement to a remote Swedish farm.

However nothing is what it seems. At its dark heart the novel is a study of deception and delusion, the secrets and lies that underpin the fabric of a life.

As a reader I found myself fascinated by the apparent simplicity of the set-up, but quickly felt that I could not trust anything I was being told, which I feel certain was Smith’s intention. With a tightly focused cast of characters the distinctive voices that Smith creates, particularly for Tilde and Daniel, are key to the success of the novel, and the pace is carefully crafted and structured.

Because of the unusual structure the first three quarters of the novel are told in “real time” and cover no more than a few hours as Tilde tells her tale. I found myself completely in tune with this pace, and consequently I initially struggled with the abrupt change of pace in the final quarter of the novel when Daniel visits Sweden for himself to verify the truth of Tilde’s version of events.

Smith creates a palpable sense of dislocation within the novel and a feeling of isolation which has as much to do with emotional resonance as geographic location.

I have to say that there was one particular moment in the novel which didn’t work for me, which is when Tilde produces a carved knife from her bag. My instinctive reaction was to question just how she managed to get that through airport security! Also there were a few loose ends within Tilde’s story which Smith had set up enticingly, but then didn’t fully explain, which felt a little unsatisfactory. However these are very minor gripes within what is undoubtedly a superbly written piece.

Overall I raced through the book, fascinated to reach the end and to discover whether my guesses and deductions were correct. Smith didn’t disappoint.

On the strength of this I have now decided to go back and read Smith’s debut “Child 44” which had such high praise.

The Half Life of Stars by Louise Wener

I’ve been working my way through Louise Wener’s novels and I have reached her third “The Half Life of Stars”. It’s been interesting to chart her development as a writer. In many ways her third novel is a more ambitious story than either of her first two books, although there are some thematic similarities; Claire’s search for her missing brother Daniel could almost be an echo of Audrey’s search for her missing father in The Big Blind.

However one of the most striking differences is Wener’s growing confidence with dialogue. The conversational flow in this novel is excellent, and I really enjoyed the voice that Wener gives to Claire, her main protagonist, which is spiky, awkward and belligerent. I loved the character’s ability to deal with the cruel and dismissive put-downs from her dysfunctional family, which made me root for her all the more. The plotting within the novel is also well-handled with a host of seemingly disconnected plot threads becoming slowly intertwined and eventually resolved.

The American section of the novel is particularly powerful and I loved the descriptions of the scenery, the way of life, and the acutely-observed details with which Wener weaves a rich tapestry.

The characterisation is really strong, and despite the reasonably large cast there is a clear differentiation between the various characters. I enjoyed the pace of her writing, and found that I had quickly devoured the book without being aware of the passage of time.

If I have any criticism it’s probably directed towards the epilogue which I simply found too long. Although it’s very cleverly done, my feeling is that it would have been much more powerful at a quarter of the length. Sometimes less can be more.

However overall I found this to be both readable and satisfying, which seems a good balance.

The Shock of the Fall by Nathan Filer

Authors stand or fall on their ability to create believable voices and as a reader that sense of being completely immersed in a character’s world is one of the unique joys of fiction. In “The Shock of the Fall” Nathan Filer has created a truly memorable voice for Matthew, his troubled young protagonist who sets out to relate the story of the death of Simon (his down’s syndrome brother) and to chart the ensuing legacy of his own mental health issues.

The book is essentially Matthew’s story, told in a series of flawed flashbacks and incomplete fragments of memory. The novel is part-confessional, part document, part epistle, complete with occasional line drawings and official letters. The sense of emotional connection to the main character is palpable, evoked entirely through the strength and depth of Filer’s writing. To my mind it was a worthy outright winner of the Costa Book of the Year (fully accepting the inherent limitations of that multiple-genre competition which one critic described as comparing custard to curry).

The comparison back to Mark Haddon’s “Curious Incident” is an obvious association, but they are very different in their overall approach and intent. I was struck by the uneasy feeling of suspense that Filer develops throughout the story as we slowly tease out the facts surrounding Simon’s death. His clever use of multiple viewpoints within a first-person narrative provides a resonant echo back to Matthew’s schizophrenic personality.

From the kernel of a fairly simple story Filer has managed to create a layered narrative of real depth and complexity.

I’m intrigued to see what he decides to write next.

After all, it’s a beginning.

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

Having watched the David Fincher movie some years ago I decided to read Chuck Palahniuk’s debut novel. Although I was already familiar with the basic plot twists as represented within the movie I still found that the novel follows a fairly baffling narrative trajectory. It is dark, bitter and impossibly twisted.

 

Palahniuk’s style is minimalist in his approach. By his own admission he prefers verbs to adjectives. He reads like Charles Bukowski on speed. At times it felt as though he had possibly written a conventional first draft and then edited it with a chainsaw, paring it back to the barest minimum of words that would still convey the essence of the piece. For me this works in parts, but it does not make for a comfortable read. I felt that I needed all my concentration just to stay with it.

 

The novel is written as a succession of random scenes from a violent nightmare world which spirals inexorably towards an almost apocalyptic conclusion. I found Palahniuk’s fascination with the macabre and repulsive to be in turn both relentless and deeply unsettling.

 

Is it absorbing? Yes.

 

Is it disturbing? Yes.

 

Is it enjoyable? For me, no; not in any sense. It simply grips you by the throat and demands that you keep reading until you reach the end.

 

Can I sleep now?

The Big Blind by Louise Wener

Louise Wener’s second novel is a real departure from her debut outing. In “The Big Blind” she creates a believable and realistic protagonist in Audrey Ungar, a thirty-something maths tutor with slight OCD tendencies, who discovers that she shares her absent father’s obsession with poker. With the help of an obese and reclusive card sharp called Big Louie she sets out on a quest to track down and confront her missing father.

Wener has a finely honed comedic eye (and ear) and her characters crackle with life. As a reader you feel a real sense of identification with the cast, and her characterisations are witty without descending into caricature. Big Louie is really well written, and Wener creates a fine balance between his manic compulsions and the sense of menace that starts to surround Audrey.

The plotting of this book is stronger than her debut novel, and she also managed to make me cry at the final denouement.

I have never been a card player, and therefore have never truly understood the fascination with poker. However Wener succeeds in making the game sound mesmeric, even to a complete novice like me. Now, I just need to go and practice my mechanic’s deal.