Graham Greene called Eric Ambler as "unquestionably our finest thriller writer", a testimonial that is also to be found on the intriguing cover of the copy of this book. It is telling that Greene, who, in my humble opinion, is himself the finest thriller writer of the twentieth century, up there with John Buchan, found much to admire in Ambler's lean, business-like and crisp style of storytelling; both the writers did see eye to eye when writing about similar or even the same geopolitical conflicts or conundrums. However, while Ambler , if judged alone, was indeed capable of a tight, thrilling form of storytelling that could also be tinged with political prescience, he did lack what Greene possessed to distinguish his unique skill - a peerless understanding of human morality and political ambiguity, a sense of uncertainty and unpredictability that made his works transcend their genres effectively.
That is not to say that "The Night-comers" is any inferior work of fiction. Judged for its own merits, it is a commendably lean, though not quite mean, thriller set in the tumultuous milieu of Sunda, newly liberated from its Dutch masters, where there is already the hint of an armed insurgency. Steve Fraser, a contractual engineer, is all set to make his way home after completing his tenure; however, as he relaxes for a few days with an Indo-European woman in the hot and humid city of Selampang, they both find themselves trapped in a dangerous situation – as the troops of the Islamic revolutionary leader Sanusi take over the apartment of the building where they are residing for the night, which turns out to be the building for the country’s national radio service.
Out of this simple story, Ambler skilfully extricates a grain of suspense and urgency as the hostage situation is rendered further with touches of danger by the counter-attack of the Government forces, through air-raids and eventually an armed invasion of the city held by the fledgling army of the rebels. Fraser and the woman, named Rosalie Linden, find themselves vulnerable to the threat of being killed as undesirables by the fanatical troops in the building and later by the danger of death by destruction even as the situation turns in their favour when Fraser lends a hand in repairing the generators for the rebel troops even as their enemies are gaining the edge. In the meantime, Ambler gives a little room to delve into the modus operandi of Sanusi and his men, even though this facet of the story is almost completely ignored in the latter half of the novel.
Till the middle point of the book, the author is able to keep the reader on tenterhooks of paranoia and tension with a constantly suspenseful narrative. After that, however, as the situation becomes oddly hopeful for our entrapped protagonists, the tension and danger slacken even as the pace remains quite entertainingly fast. True to what Ian Fleming, another admirer, said, “The Night-comers” is indeed a splendid piece of battle writing and the nervous and even desperate chaos of the coup and the counter-offensive are chronicled by Ambler with seriousness and dread. One is able to hear the sinister whine of the dive-bombers and one finds oneself flung and hurtled by the incendiary force of the explosions and gunfire, as the writer keeps the siege simmering till it boils over magnificently in the end.
Where “The Night-comers” falters, however, is how it plays quite safe in its portrayal of the inconvenient truths of this situation. Ambler is strangely quiet and even stoic to the world-altering import of the coup – the very plausible outcome of an Islamic reign over the region of South East Asia can mean a very unexpected turn of consequences for the West and even for the continent. And while in the shrewd and secretive Major Suparto, he gives us a character who reveals a brief view of the state of affairs in a region newly liberated from colonial rule, he too is hardly developed into a convincing character – we know only the extent of his actions and intents.
It can be argued that the novel is told from the perspective of Fraser alone, though he too is hardly a character remarkable enough, whose real feelings never come to the surface, except in a scene of heated argument with Linden. Their “love affair” too feels only intermittently moving or empathetic even though the few moments of strained intimacy are some of the novel’s strongest scenes. And it is also regrettable that Sanusi’s religious faith, too, is unexplored. We never quite know what makes these men on the edge of death, be it the hopelessly idealistic rebel general or the shrewd General Ishak of the Government’s army, tick like loaded sticks of dynamite, condemned to their fate.
It is here that “The Night-comers” suffers in comparison to Greene’s accomplished thrillers, particularly “The Honorary Consul”, a novel more slow-burning and thoughtful in parts but wherein the author was able to infuse a throbbing pulse of suspense and despair to the proceedings and also took meticulous care to develop his characters, their personalities and conflicts and even establish their striking points of view. In this beautifully layered story, written in the fine tradition of Stevenson and Buchan, Colonel Perez, the bloodhound of the police, and Leon Rivas, the slippery leader of the hapless kidnappers, who still nurses his chosen faith, are both rounded out convincingly as people condemned by their duty. That novel, with an unpredictable and eye-widening denouement, was always suspenseful, beating with an almost unbearable pulse of pathos and despair.
In comparison, Ambler’s novel, though slimmer, is almost complacent in its predictability, in how it will end on a good note for its protagonists; even the Buchan novel that I am about to finish now has much more suspense as to how will things come to an end. But still, this was an enjoyable introduction for me to an author who certainly deserves to be read further and I am confident that I will surely enjoy his next novel, which should be one of his signature triumphs from the wartime years.