It’s Tom Wood; it’s Victor - what more must be said?
Every Tom Wood story is a gem, they simply vary in their lustre, their sparkle, the cut.
This is one of his best. It’s succinct, but don’t let it’s brevity fool you, as to the richness of the content. It tells more about the protagonist - Victor, needless to say - than many other authors could shoehorn into a trilogy replete with backstories, up to and including first childhood memories.
That Wood has never foisted such backstories upon us - not once, in all of those marvellously entertaining, intelligent and complex novels - is one of the most tantalising elements of the Victor legend.
Who is he, this nameless man?
For he is nameless, make no mistake. We are told, often, throughout the series, that “Victor” is but a name which he chose for himself, and not that which he was given at birth. His true name has been lost to him and to us; washed away by the tides of blood and destruction, which have shaped him into that which he has become, just as his true face has been lost, albeit under all those surgeons’ careful, artful blades - so many procedures, so many years.
What propels him onward? What is driving him from job to job, hunting those who have earned the price on their head, while he is hunted in turn, having earned his own price, many, many times over.
The answer to the first is a mystery, and I believe it is best it remains so. The answer to the second is less so. He is an apex predator, an atavistic creature, stripped of the morality and conscience, which binds the animal that is man to social mores and concepts of good and evil. He simply is.
But then along comes this little gem, and the latter question becomes more complex. The answer less direct, the truth less obvious in a way which we have not really been presented with since the first novel - a debut which blazed with action, intelligence a strange humanity, which took a character who should be repellent to most of us, and made us want him to survive and find vengeance for the one who showed him kindness and concern.
Echoes of that humanity resound throughout this short, short story, enriching it and transmuting the base lead of simple words into something absolutely breathtaking. Who knew the philosophers stone created diamonds, and not gold? (Apologies - I had to shove that in, otherwise my metaphors were well and truly mixed! ;) ).
Victor remains a mystery, of course, even after all the dust settles and the last body has fallen. But he IS a bloody good mystery (figuratively and literally).
Long past time that Victor made his debut, on film or television. Amazon, Netflix, HBO - all the streaming services - what aren’t you seeing about the richness and complexity; the utter compelling lure of Wood’s writing, and the singular character he has created?
This gem alone, cut and polished by a craftsman at the top of his game, sparkles brighter than most entire novels.
It’s Tom Wood; it’s Victor. What more must be said?
Magnificent.