78-year old Ernie Johnson, experienced yachtsman, dyed-in-the-wool leftie and pacifist, sails toward Ireland aboard The Worker's Paradise. When Customs Inspectors board the boat, they find a huge cache of arms and whisk Ernie away to face the music. His nephew Fred Hope, 'conservation's Che Guevara' with his own reputation as a wild man, visits the old man in prison, only to find that he appears to have forgotten who he is. What follows is a compulsive tale of international treachery, Russian Mafiosi, stolen art treasures and political ghosts from the past - set against the freezing backdrop of the Norwegian Sea in winter.
It's not impossible that there's a readable story in here, but many of the signs are discouraging. Every character, large and small, seems to have a backstory which must be indulged at slightly too great a length. It's a question of balance and the author has not quite achieved a comfortable footing, at least for my tastes. I want to get to the part of the story that's about ships at sea but so far it's all about the rascals and reprobates ashore. The other discouraging thing is that this book is almost 25 years old and has only one review on goodreads. My enthusiasm has dwindled to a stopping point at page 49.