As Sluggish as a Pre-War Citroen Tractor at 40 Below
Night Without End had a lot of promise with a compelling scenario, exotic setting, and an appealing narrator. The first quarter or so of the book is page-turning and exciting. But once they set out on the tractor for the coast the book sputters and lurches along to an unsatisfying finish.
Another Fawcett author of the era, Edward S. Aarons of the Assignment saga, kept his adventure stories at a taut 150-170 pages. Maclean's novel swelled to 224 pages of small type and would have greatly benefitted from trimming 40 or so pages of blubber. And there was a lot of that, so much so that I admit to skimming a few paragraphs describing yet again the tractor's inching across the icecap, how the winds blew, or the bleak and merciless terrain. The book was padded and stretched, Maclean goosing the flailing story with a senseless killing or someone slipping down a crevasse.
To his credit, Maclean researched this story thoroughly, but to this reader's dismay, he shoehorned all that research directly into the narrative with long expository paragraphs that did not enhance the reader's enjoyment or propel the plot forward. It did provide an unintentionally funny moment, however, when Captain Hillcrest--the very model of a modern major general--radios Mason:
"'I guess you're a good way from the tractor. At 70 below you won't want to stay there too long. Suggest I do all the talking. I'll keep it brief.'" Hillcrest then launches into a half-page litany of every aircraft and ship that has joined the search, providing Mason the make, model, and national origin of each one, burying Mason under an avalanche of detail (133-34). So much for keeping it brief. Maclean didn't write that detailed list of military air and seacraft for Mason's benefit, but to impress the reader. I just felt bad Mason had to sit outside in 70-below temps while Maclean was utterly failing to impress me.
I couldn't ever accept, even for the plot's sake, that no aircraft were searching for the airplane crash survivors. Hillcrest mentioned a couple tried and failed, but with the precious missile mechanism at stake I would have thought the search would be relentless. I know from the John Wayne movie Island in the Sky that finding a few survivors in vast snow-covered wilderness is no mean feat, but in this case knowing the base camp and probable path and destination of the tractor would have narrowed the scope and made discovery likely.
Now, this will sound heartless, but I didn't give a damn about Mahler or Marie LeGarde, the two albatrosses the ragtag tractor crew haul across ice-capped hill and dale. Mahler's hovering between life and death for over a hundred pages was just boring. I felt no connection to the character. The stereotypical life story he spun, straight out of a Singer short story, was even dismissed as a lie by Mason. LeGarde gave no indication of being the star of musical stage. I expected a bombastic character, one who would be played by Shelley Winters if they ever made a movie of the book.
Besides trusty Eskimo sidekick Jackstraw (who I envisioned as Clint Walker circa Kodiak), there were no standout, sharply defined characters. None of the survivors, even Margaret Ross, whom Maclean dotes on and casts as the damsel in distress near the end, were ever more than two-dimensional. The big reveal of the bad guys was anticlimactic, though I admit to enjoying the fitting finish of the most evil one of them, as if creation itself conspired to snuff out such a foul pollutant.
Night Without End became the Book Without End, one that would have been much improved by a trimming the fat and bringing it down to a lean 150 pages.