I’ve loudly announced myself in other reviews, as a devout Adam Hall/Elleston Trevor fan. I’ve stated it plainly. Ain’t no news ’bout that.
I'm never subdued in my assessment that the Quiller novels are the most exciting reads I've probably ever encountered outside of Hammett. Or else, the horror yarns from Stephen King, Shirley Jackson, etc.
Hall’s Quiller romps are so good they make me short-of-breath and goggle-eyed, as Hammett does. But Hammett’s bibliography is slender, and Adam Hall gives me twenty full-length Quiller adventures.
For my money, Elleston Trevor is the post-WWII incarnation of Dashiell Hammett; as well as an improvement on Ian Fleming’s Bond.
If there’s anyone else this good an action-writer, I’d sure like to know about him.
Pound-for-pound, Trevor matches up to Maugham-LeCarre-Follett-Deighton-Greene-Ambler-McCarry-Littell in that, he delivers the full-blooded action which all those other giant names, de-prioritize.
Adam Hall/Elleston Trevor writes espionage; he can be as slick and psychological as anyone else in that realm, but what he also delivers is the freakish violence I’ve only found elsewhere in the pages of Hammett or Paul Cain. Unsettling, disturbing violence.
Like many others, I too was introduced to Quiller from the quirky neo-Nazi flick with George Segal, deft screenplay by John Mortimer (or someone as good as John Mortimer, was it John Osborne? Harold Pinter?) and co-starring Alec Guinness.
Was Segal the very best casting one could ask for? No, but George Segal is a darn good actor and he acquitted himself ably in this, as he did so many other roles. I can’t comprehend the assertion that he was a ‘scenery-chewer’. Segal plays such a diversity of characters, under a diversity of directors. Brutes, cads, lovers, oafs, weaklings, schleps, psychos. Other stars might have done better, but many might have done less, than did Segal as ‘Quiller’.
This is not to excuse Quiller #1 (‘The Quiller Memorandum’) which is a perhaps-too-subtle-for-the-screen type of spy novel. The source material was ill-used. Even the novel itself is not quite on firm-footing. Trevor was still finding-his-form in his first book; and it showed in the movie adaptation. There’s weaknesses. But there’s also strengths.
This is where I started with the Elleston Trevor ‘Quiller’ novels. First, I investigated whether the earliest book matched up with the earliest movie.
Found them both good in their own way; not so much for the plots but for the quality writing and the cleverness. At one and the same time, Quiller is a thinking man’s hero and he’s also an adrenalin-junkie. He’s soft-spoken, and he’s brutal.
Movie+Book: Quiller not carrying a gun.
Book: Quiller knowing how to make his body ‘go limp’ and ‘faint’.
Movie+Book: Quiller is adept at surviving interrogations.
Movie: Quiller confidently brawling with six Neo-Nazis.
Book: Quiller’s hatred of Nazis; (never followed-up on).
Movie+Book: Quiller multi-lingual skills.
Results: mixed. But howsoever the franchise began, it’s the book series which gains speed and force. The books surge forward; movie/television can't convey this fictional character. Just to call out two titles:
In ‘Sinkiang Executive’ Quiller must train himself to fly a captured Mig back across Russian air defense for the sake of deliberately crash-landing near a contact he must meet near in Manchuria.
In ‘Ninth Directive’ Quiller must stop an international assassin's next kill in Bangkok. What is unusual here is the assassination taking place in the middle of the book! The middle of the book! [How some claim this is an ‘average read’, I cannot grasp.]
‘Tango Briefing’
is another exceptionally subtle and well-done installment.
The Saharan locale recalls ‘Flight of the Phoenix’ –how this British author knows North Africa so well, I’ve no idea.
The yarn exhibits surreal desolateness you wouldn't expect in a typical thriller. But it is not quiet or calm.
Now, I don’t know how –or why –anyone ever supposed it would suit a TV series. Whether in Tangier, Bangkok, or Siberia, Trevor has a keen eye for visual detail; but I would think that without a 'voice-over' any adaptation would fail.
Fun Fact: the ill-fated BBC series features Michael Jayston from BBC's "Smiley's People".
Nevertheless, it likely failed because Quiller is a 90% internal character. It’s part of his craft to go as unnoticed as possible. He rarely beds women; gambles; or drinks. He lives for missions; trusts nobody. A nihilistic figure. A sad figure.
Now, a key scene in ‘Tango Briefing’ which made me sit up in awe. Middle of the book. At first, it seems like the same ol' ordinary espionage tropes. Groups of spies tailing each other in cars.
I can’t quite convey the shock of reading this grisly-turning scene, here in my remarks. The pursuit takes place on a vastly empty stretch of Tunisian highway. Quiller has just lost the car chase with his pursuers.
If it were a Fleming novel, James Bond would simply let himself be accosted by the three thugs who ambush him. He would light a cigarette, make a jeer, and allow himself to be led off to Blofeld’s headquarters for a meeting with the arch-enemy of Britain.
But Quiller is having none of it. This is the stamp of all his action scenes; 180-degree-opposite of the flashy, gentlemanly James Bond.
Quiller soft-pedals only at first; only at first does he back-pedal and acquiesces. Outwardly, low-key. But his pulse is racing and he’s considering every possible alternative. He’s not thinking about his next Scotch, or his next Benson&Hedges. He’s thinking about the mission, always the mission, 100% the mission.
After a long car chase, three scummy Algerian thugs have forced him off the road and now he stands with his butt leant up against the bonnet of his rent-a-car; while they taunt him. They want answers and they’re going to extract them roughly.
James Bond would light a cigarette and smoke it, indifferent to his captors. Classy Bond doesn’t waste words on small-fry.
What does Quiller do? Three filthy Algerian hoods are smirking at him, mocking him, spluttering Arabic expletives on him.
Okay. They toy with him, he is allowed a cigarette. But he palms the lit match. He’s been waiting for this. He incinerate his three opponents with that little match.
The writing of Elleston Trevor which conveys this is just outlandish. Nothing like it in Fleming; nothing like it, anywhere, from any author, that I’ve ever seen.
Quiller is c-r-a-z-y. Berserk. He doesn’t carry a gun. He doesn’t need one. He watches everything and watches everyone around him all the time and he knows --all the time --exactly what’s going on. Until he doesn't. Then, sh*t goes nuts.
Best fictional secret agent ever.