I've read a half dozen or so popular `thrillers' in recent weeks by authors whose names, at least, were familiar to me.
But after shaking my head at the comic-level improbability of Harlen Coben and James Patterson novels, and refusing to endure more than a couple of chapters of Jeffery Archer, when I began reading Michael Dobbs' GOODFELLOWE MP, I thought I'd arrived, at last, at the Premier League.
Dobbs' tale of boa constrictor intrigue by big business, inexorably squeezing the breath and hope out of a decent man who happens to be in their path, is told with growing tension and flair. It's an enjoyable read.
Tom Goodfellowe, a once-promising politician, is down on his luck as a result of a domino-series of personal tragedies. But a financial silver-lining appears at hand. At the lure of a series of handsome pay-days, simply for writing the odd newspaper article, he is almost unwittingly drawn into the grand and nefarious commercial scheme of highly intelligent but utterly unscrupulous press baron, Freddy Corsa (could there possibly be such a creature as an utterly unscrupulous press baron?).
Goodfellowe's conscience, though, is towering. He ultimately smells a seriously rotten egg and rails against increasingly sinister attempts at manipulation. Retribution is swift and brutal. He soon finds his personal world collapses around him. It may be a truism that you can't fight City Hall, but fighting the Big End of Town is suicidal.
Goodfellowe's potential love interest, the beautiful Russian/Irish restaurateur, is about as convincing as a $3 note, but most of the peripheral characters that populate the story are superbly drawn. Dobbs paints a picture of the MP's compromised colleagues that is all too plausible. And he is even better at outlining the initially innocuous but inevitably doomed situations that led them to perdition. The subtlety of the pressures put on these men, and indeed, Goodfellowe himself, appears irresistible. After all, who's averse to stashes of ostensibly legitimate cash? And how many of us wouldn't be quick to rationalise such largesse when the bags appear to get a little bit dirty, or when the source threatens to dry up altogether?
There are no shoot-outs here; no car chases; no gratuitous sex(unfortunately) but as the sweat beads gather on Goodfellowe's brow as cold, calculating corporate interests begin to crush his career, reputation, family and thus his life, this thriller really does thrill.
..................Oh dear. Then Hollywood enters stage left. The final dozen pages of this otherwise excellent novel descend into the clichéd Good versus Evil denouement where the Baddies are soundly thrashed and the Good Guys live happily ever after. This bit could have been written by Archer.
Dobbs has missed it by that much!