Fool me six times, and the addiction is mine.
The Chronicles continue to meander aimlessly in the penultimate episode. There are ten or more short stories that progress so rapidly that one could almost feel the weight of the author's deadline pressure. For a change, there are no famous Archerisq close votes or a cliff-hanger book-end - two definite new positives! However, substituting them are these plethora of' tales that appear to have been lifted straight out of a collection of 1970s' books and movies, summarised almost without much modification.
The two main issues, apart from the pace that never lets the reader enjoy the tension of a build-up or the relief at a climax, are lack of sufficient research and a complete absence of novelty in any of the plots. For example, 1970s Bombay is shown as a replica of the one that exists now: the author possibly did not have time to verify that there were no perpetual traffic gridlocks in Bombay back then, the newspapers had no society pages or its hotels were still not accepting cards for payments.
The Bollywood-like love story is one of the many that just serves no purpose: they do not belong to the main story thread and they do not provide any real pleasure to readers. In trying to add fake pregnancy, Noble award, corporate takeovers, the Eastern block sleuths, counter sleuths, planted drugs, masseuses as moles, speeches at funerals and award ceremonies, the words left by the diseased's through a letter or a Will, successful or failed attempts at fetching the loved ones from Eastern Europe/India/America/Russia etc - the stories change almost every few sentences. Yet, few are likely to be surprised even once.
While there are those really warmth inducing twists of phrases or interactions between characters at the start - things that make one always pick up Mr Archer’s work, but they disappear quite rapidly as the book progresses. Mr Archer possibly never realises this: a scene is created towards the end for a great oratory blast from one of the key characters. The book, through one of the other characters, compares the delivery to the historic speeches of Roosevelt or Churchil. The speech in reality is so dull and commonplace that it is unlikely to find itself in the author’s ten or even fifty best created paragraphs in his fiction.
Overall, the book, like the previous few, refuses to progress but spends time listing a series of imaginary events with little connections. The way it is all set up, the last book will only involve more of the same with perhaps all the key characters dying largely of old age.