The Man Without a Name

by Martin Russell

Book by Russell, Martin James

Paperback

First published July 1, 1977

Reviews

[John · Rating 2 out of 5]

Technologist John Tiverton gets home one night to discover is wife doesn't recognize him, and neither does the neighbour she calls to help eject this intruding stranger. The tale follows him on his quest over the next few days to find someone who'll recognize him, with all his old friends and colleagues -- and even mistress -- saying that the real John Tiverton looked quite different and anyway died in a car crash six months ago. Brian Garfield, a thriller writer for whom I have enormous respect, gave the book a rare cover quote . . . but that was in 1977. I suppose the floweriness of the prose might be a deliberate part of the characterization of a technologist writing narrative, but it was fairly irritating in places; the two explanations offered for the bizarre setup seem both equally unsatisfying. A highly intriguing premise squandered, I'd say. Even so, the book was consistently interesting enough for me to keep wanting to read more.

A Thoggish moment:

You think you can pull the wool over everyone's eyes . . . but mine, you'll find, are in the back of my head. (p177)

[Paperback Papa · Rating 3 out of 5]

This 1977 novel by Martin Russell presents a baffling mystery. A man suddenly isn't recognized by his wife, his neighbors, his boss, and his coworkers. He knows all of these people, even intimate details of their lives, but they claim to have never seen him before. At first, he thinks it's a joke, some sort of elaborate prank. But quickly he realizes that there is no joke. Everyone he knows, even his wife and boss at work, tell him that the man he's claiming to be died in a car wreck six months before.

The above is not a spoiler, as this information is revealed in the first few pages.

I loved the baffling puzzle this story presented. It was very clever. So why did I only give it three stars? Because the ending was unsatisfying. I felt the story needed a clear explanation of the puzzle, and with 20 pages left I thought I had one. But the final two chapters muddied the water again and left me wondering. The author was clearly messing with his readers...like holding out a treat and then jerking it back. The ending just didn't sit well. If the book had ended after page 163, I would feel completely different about it.

Sometimes mystery authors can get too cute, and this book is a good example.