Douglas E. Winter, Run (Onyx, 2000)
Douglas Winter, whose sole excursion into publishing previously was editing a number of excellent anthologies, heads to the front of the camera, as it were, with his first novel, Run. One wonders, idly, what took him so long-especially after reading this.
Burdon Lane is an arms dealer-mostly legal, with some grey-area stuff around the edges to supplement the income. All of it is well-known and well-sanctioned by his employer, UniArms, who do the same thing, just on a much bigger level. One day, the president of UniArms calls Burdon and his sidekick, Renny Two-Hand, into the office and asks them to accompany a shipment to Manhattan. It should be an easy job, but if it were, there wouldn't be a novel, would there?
Most reviews, and all the blurbs, focus on the book's fast pace and nonstop action. Which is true, for the last two hundred or so pages of this four-hundred-page novel. Once the deal goes sour, you'll finish this in one marathon session. Winter provides no place to take smoke breaks in here; the shooting starts, and it does not end. It's not every action-novel writer who can keep up that kind of a pace for two hundred pages.
What impressed me more about the novel, though, were the first two hundred pages, which involve a lot of waiting, a lot of background, and some nicely unobtrusive setup for the events to come. I can't count the number of action, mystery, horror, et al. novels where the setup portions drag like a three-toed sloth with a gimp leg. But even when Winter is setting up Burdon's character, introducing us to the minor players, and other such mundane tasks, the book is still brisk enough that the reader is reluctant to let go. This comes half from Burdon Lane's narrative style, which has the look and feel of an illiterate construction worker reciting the famous soliloquy from Hamlet, and half from an ability to flesh out minor characters with little details most writers would overlook. (The comparison here to one of Winter's longtime clients, Stephen King, is obvious. The man learned from the master of the quirky detail and the two-line character sketch. He learned very well. This is not to say that this sounds in any way like a Stephen King novel; Winter has a voice all his own, and it's a doozy.) Someone needs to make a movie of this book, if only to give Steve Buscemi the chance to play CK, one of the other guys accompanying the shipment.
I hate to use phrases like "adrenaline-fueled," but this book deserves them all. All-natural guarana-enhanced sport drinks have nothing on Doug Winter's writing style. ****