+ Innes can write: straightforward, never embellished, some very poignant descriptions - dialogue and action well-packed in swift stories blessedly devoid of lengthy mundane portraitures. He is good at evoking the feel of a place - the threatening whiffs of moist in an undersea mine; the gloomy metal smell of a ship hold; (in this book) the utter desolation of a (seemingly - aha - thriller begins!) defunct aerodrome at night somewhere in dreary midwinter Britain - I could almost feel those slippery half-frozen weeds on the tarmac trying to ensnare my boots - "a fine 1950s black-and-white adventure movie" I believe is what some other member wrote. But ...
- Innes' protagonists' immense stupidity beggars belief - in each of his damn novels. I always subtract a full star for that - at least - two for this book. Always starts with a gripping, original setup - and then pretty soon occur the grim contractions of the eyebrows and pursing of the mouth in disbelief. And they keep coming back - at some point you want to scream at the stage or the screen: "Noooo man! Dón't do that,man! Dón't ... ah ... just leave him lying there, unconscious but untrussed, that bloke who a minute ago tried to shoot you and vice versa - you shot at him with, intent to kill undoubtedly, for with a double-barrelled shotgun, remember! Now you got him. Now shoot the bastard! End of story (plus end of novel - there's the rub: novella not as good a sella). Don't ... ah ... let a physically much stronger fanatic who has repeatedly announced to you that he will walk over the dead bodies, including yours, of all those who would venture to thwart his plans, get too close to you once you are engaged in ... thwarting his plans! - and definitely do not tell him straight in his face that you are thus engaged, you silly - especially when you're alone with him and he is the much stronger chap ánd far more ruthless and thus far deadlier than thou, thou ...SUKKEL! "SUKKEL!","O, súkkel!", " O nee, stomme sukkel!!" I found myself muttering continually. ("Sukkel" = goof, dunce, dope, dolt, nincompoop´etc; stom(me) = dumb, stupid; "nee" = no - Dutch - funny this tendency to revert to one's mother tongue when perturbed. (And when doing arithmetic.) Hammond has these deathwishy-washy Goody Two-shoes: they are invariably sturdy and courageous young and not-so-old men of high moral standing - in existential matters , so when and where it counts (as in an adventure novel!) - not necessarily in money matters - picture the gentleman rogue with the heart of gold - British officer type - picture David Niven -but a David Niven in one of his comic, bungling roles: beset with an inconceivable and inconceivably persistent naivité in the face of danger and a ludicrously caricaturesque British fair-play forbearance, Hammond's protagonists most often seem to do everything in their power to give their mortal opponents yet one more chance - to stay alive and free and kicking hard - till the very end, where the villain(s) usually come to grief through some twist of fate or outside force - nót by the spotless hands of our hero, naturally - let's say: a walrus attack (we're in Antarctica - The Blue Ice is the novel) seems to finally end the fight in disfavor of the ruthless villain who is now incapacitated (ÍS HE? IS HE REALLY? We know better, for we read Hammond innes before ...) and slowly bleeding to death - what does our hero do? - tucks him in snugly - untrammelled, naturally - and lays himself down beside the bugger and goes to sleep - only to be awakened in the middle of the night by a flaming tent set alight with walrus blubber by you-know-who ... and the novel has yet again gained a few more pages - there's Hammond Innes for you.
As for Air Bridge, I found the mulish refusal of the protagonist to recognize the mortal threat so clearly and repeatedly posed particularly hard to stomach - especially in the finale, where the villain "most unexpectedly" (quotation marks for whodunit puzzlers) comes down the stairs in the farm where they
(hero and thé girl - there's always thé girl in Hammond's stories, who then turns out to be SÓME! woman - brainy, tough, gutsy ... loyal even - and hé is always the perfect gentleman waiting for some serious life threats to be removed at the end of the book ere he pounces - or she - anyway, they get each other in the end and the how and and-now? are swiftly told in a few sentences on the last pages)
have strived so hard all through the second half of the novel to get to - denouement at hand - but no, it takes many many precious minutes and talk and queries to and fro (there are other people present - I won't give too much away) before they realize that the wolf, who has been a true big bad wolf all through the story, has come to do ... some truly big-bad-wolfy naughtiness ... Yeah, and then it takes some many long minutes again before someone (thé girl - yeah! - she's also thé brains in the book) suggests they might want to arm themselves ... and so it goes, and on it goes - and you the reader feel like the greatest sucker of them all because you yet again have let yourself get sucked into another most dissatisfying adventure novel that nonetheless you cannot bring yourself to discard because there is this overwhelming need to know how the bad guys perish and the good guy bumbles and bungles his way to victory. And so on you read*. Grmpf, Hammond
Innes.
*I actually listened to the audio version on Youtube - read by stephen Thorne - adequate, but his German accent is way off - and there are quite a few German voices, so it gets to be irritating - Thorne tries to imitate some ridiculous post-war Hollywood German ("Jawoll!" - no one here says it, unless in jest - and no Zherman zounds like ziz - and conversely I haven't as yet come across an actor from the English-speaking world who has cottoned on to the obvious problems most Ch'ommans have with dings like "manach'uh" (manager) and "tahun"(town). Zstrange.