Written in 1961 prior to the Moon surveying spacecraft of the Sixties and the Apollo series of moon orbits (8, 1968) and landings (11, 1969 to 17, 1972, -13), Clarke establishes the Lunar landscape early on, on which to set his space thriller, in our own back yard, so to speak, in terms of space exploration of the Solar System or space opera's grand sweep of the universe. As usual, Clarke is interested in bedding his story in verisimilitude of detail. The problem is, this is a very local event which counts on the detective work of known science, of problem solving, not of the imagination and creativity of a new world or environment, like Childhood's End (1953), Rendezvous With Rama (1973) or The City And The Stars (1956), which deal with aliens, their spaceships, and a far future human city. The breadth of those novels is dependent upon creative imagination. The depth of this offering is dependent upon known (or closely projected) local space. Thus, it hasn't the imaginative breadth to excite as they did, and as a result is somewhat slow through the first three quarters.
Despite the initial lack of thrill of the thriller, in what is essentially a mundane story for science fiction, Clarke does manage to make out of it a human story, revealing individuals of a hitherto nebulous community, apart from a few key leaders, trapped together. But he goes too far even here, involving us, although briefly, in the petty antics of a news-hungry reporter eager to break the story of the rescue before his competitors, and this generates too many words amid a host of yawns, while not advancing the plot. But Clarke is punctilious if not pedantic, and the story sags before the rescue operation proper.
Yet Clarke has a great sense of pace, and it picks up and up as we move toward the eventual nail-biting rush of the rescue. A false start, a recovery, new problems, new solutions, further, more urgent problems.... The thriller is resumed and the developing pressure built towards the end is a literary match for that of the dust beneath which the twenty-odd tourists are trapped. But this is no similar dust to Earth's; the Moon's dust, billions of years old, is like a liquid talcum powder, with its unique viscous properties and dangers at a certain depth. Clarke adds in further terrors, and the roller-coaster he has designed courses its way frantically to a desperate finish.
Despite a very slow start and development, Clarke's simple tale of accident and rescue on the Moon, in the Sea of Thirst, ramps up its tempo to a thrilling finish - much like a long distance runner pacing themselves before a sprint finish. Well constructed, decently peopled science fiction, and while not the space opera of contending civilisations, a credit to humankind's ingenuity, oddness, and the desperate will to live, as well as Clarke's superb reasoning and writing. His ending turned it round for me, where I was quite bored by half way. I'm glad I finished it.