Posted 21 September 2012 - 05:33 PM
In the Fan Fiction opus Decree Absolute James Bond wings his way to exotic locales around the globe in pursuit of Jürgen Hassel, ex-racing driver, head of a multinational pharmaceutical conglomerate, blackmailer and master criminal. It’s a welcome return. There’s violence aplenty in this tale and the novel has the impact of a vicious rollercoaster as it dips up and down between high points, churning our stomachs and minds with the voracity of it all. There are times when author Paul Taylor has seldom been better. As always, his storytelling is a cut above the ordinary and once again his version of OO7 provides all the excitement and mayhem an audience expects.
However, despite his safe handling of the hurly-burly, Mr. Taylor is still something of an authorial enigma. His research is frequently impeccable and his ideas are, without fail, ingenious and tantalizingly thrilling. I was particularly interested to see technology play a large part in the world of this OO7. It’s refreshing to see an emphasis placed not only on Q Branch (the film franchise’s forte) but also on the military, the civil and ordinary every day communication techniques. This Bond makes a tremendous amount of mobile phone calls; he’s almost lost without one and that all too modern techno-reliance is nicely juxtaposed with the fact Bond usually ends up destroying his appliances, including mobile phones. However, while consummate action and techno-babble is all very well, the author continues to struggle with characters: the lynch pin of great writers. No author, from Shakespeare to Stoppard, Fitzgerald to Woolf, Bronte to Binchey, Maugham to Fleming, has ever succeeded without investing time in their cast. The same dictum should apply to the best Fan Fiction.
It is true many modern thriller writers also show scant regard for their people, who often have sketchy backgrounds and whose motivations remain deliberately obtuse. In that regard, Mr. Taylor is only following a trend, one which probably has its root as far back as the fifties and sixties when writers like Bagley and MacLean and Fleming himself were churning out bestseller after bestseller. But among all the blood and thunder presented to us here, there appears precious time for genuine personal insight. We learn next to nothing about James Bond, who is almost anonymous as an individual, until towards the novel’s end he admits to a streak of narcissism. This occurs during an undignified public shouting match with Moneypenny that sees them both act like children in a school playground as a hopelessly redundant Bill Tanner plays referee (this is the Chief of Staff remember - the man in charge of discipline!). The revelation is hardly a surprise: Bond has acted selfishly from the off and appears to have developed a crude, objectionable tone, his words seeming to whiplash across the page without sentiment. While Mr. Taylor’s interpretation of Bond has always been akin to an efficient killer, our hero has never come across so startlingly arrogant. It’s an unusual portrait and I’m unsure whether this writing is brave or misguided. It’s certainly distinctive.
We discover even less about the numerous babes Bond meets and the villains he dispatches. This is particularly galling as one of the novel’s narrative hooks involves a mind altering drug which deludes its patients to believe lies about themselves. This is a brilliant, fantastical scenario, one which is exploited very well to develop the plot and also provides the twist to the stunning climax of a teeth gritting fight. It’s a hook which has undertones of Ludlum’s Bourne series [the idea of impregnating personal history] and I particularly enjoyed this as it’s always worth reflecting on what Bond can learn from his imitators. Regards Decree Absolute, while we learn much about the current state of mind of these poor deluded people, their lack of history prior to brainwashing is noticeable and rather undermines our sympathy.
The actual bad guys are very straightforward villains, cast in a mould familiar to any devotee of Mr. Taylor’s work: a disillusioned politician, a muscle bound assassin, a crazed multimillionaire, a mad scientist. They hardly raise a shred of interest until they are about to be killed by Bond, when we learn something startling about them or their place in the unfolding grand scheme. The women get even worse treatment, being the standard gaggle of gorgeous girls who all fancy the pants off OO7 (in one case almost literally). Yet for all their external charms, not one has any depth of personality and hence Bond’s dalliances are uniformly awkward and littered with innuendo to paper over the creaking seductions.
This is not to say Decree Absolute isn’t a success. The novel itself kicks off in cracking style, a veritable dance of death between Bond and the traitor Lincoln Palmer. This is a beautifully constructed, deathly shadow of the tango enacted by dancers in the opening scene. Next, a weary Bill Tanner and his soon to be deceased young aide Corrine Murphy, arrive at a crime scene a la David Caruso in CSI, all shades and ID cards and suspicions. Much tension hangs over these scenes: we want to know why Bond is working rogue, what is the significance of Edward Blake’s death, who is the mysterious Juliet Guggler and where do Global Witness and the Klivex Corporation figure.
We are held in suspense for a very long time. The early, simple, tease of corporate blackmail has all but disappeared by the time we’re half way through, replaced by the familiar confusion of big business, politics, royal conspiracies and a terror plot that threatens the world. We’re fairly used to this sort of thing from Mr. Taylor, in fact Royal scandal was a theme already utilized in the author’s debut Edge of Treason, while infectious diseases took a bow in Silhouettes and Shadows. The novel could probably do without these multiple threads and, as always, the unraveling of such a literal Gordian knot proves to be longwinded and really needs better exposition than the author gives us. Explanations come in dribs and drabs and usually not from the horse’s mouth but from those of Bond, Tanner or a battle hardened M as they piece together the jigsaw. [I must confess however, I read this novel over a period of weeks rather than days, and may have forgotten some details from week to week.] The story seems to resolve itself reasonably well at about chapter twenty four, but there is an extended coda which feels a trifle unnecessary.
What makes the biggest difference to Decree Absolute is the plethora of grand stand climaxes. There is almost one every chapter. Bond is shoved into tight corner after tight corner and uses a few gadgets, his guile and wit and plenty of muscle and gun power to overcome the odds. Frequently the action is over the top, but for every mad cap shoot-up or stunning aerial set-piece, there is a more terse and dark nightmare for OO7 to endure. So while street chases involving helicopter gunships prove wildly unbelievable, we also have Bond being subjected to torture by ingestion or defusing ticking bombs as he hangs upside down in cargo holds. Whether the action is good or bad, the pace rarely slackens and the twists are often startlingly surprising. Those are definite plus points.
When Mr. Taylor writes such wickedly inventive scenarios I can forgive the poor grammar and the lack of polish to the prose. The constant use of ‘then, next, as, now, and, that’ as well as the mystifying over-use of the semicolon, which extend already tired sentences, becomes wearisome. He’s a storyteller of fine ideas and he weaves a tangled and satisfying web, but I do wish he’d tighten up his writing across the whole piece! Some of his metaphors are exemplary and his brief, scene setting descriptions often hauntingly evocative, yet outside of the violence, the prose teeters on the verge of the mundane. It’s often long winded, repetitive and informal, written almost as if the author was conversing, rather than creating, the discourse.
Occasionally even the action falters: the middle section of the story, which features Bond’s blossoming romance and a plane hijack, drags badly, and is the least interesting; it would benefit from some revision. The most intriguing confrontation of this section, possibly of the whole novel, doesn’t involve OO7 at all, but his boss and a high handed Royal attaché. It’s a set-to that bristles with all the friction, sparsity and animosity missing from Bond’s jokey head-to-heads with baddies Alanby and Hessel. Later, Bond himself is given a contretemps with his own boss and a clinical psychologist that also displays the author’s ability to manipulate his dialogue effectively, but this sort of scenario is rare in the novel and too often Mr. Taylor chooses his character’s words less diligently. The final few chapters in Libya, for instance, as Bond perfects a rescue mission with a commando unit, plumb the depths of stereotype. The penultimate chapter is particularly disappointing as Bond swaps one-liners with another nutty villain while spread-eagled over a pit of spikes and hanging onto the sobbing Juliet. It defies belief that at this point Bond should be smiling and laughing. This leaves a rather sour taste to the dénouement, which is a pity, as the scene isn’t representative of the novel as a whole. Yes, Paul’s good with a pun, but the best constructed sequences in the novel come when he’s being serious: those fairly crackle with intensity compared with the inconsequential stuff.
Decree Absolute is quite a long read, touching in at over 80,000 words, and tends to meander. I recently re-read Mr Taylor’s first three novels and was impressed by how tightly structured they were. There was something gratifying in the swiftness of those early works. Here the polished assuredness of the author’s cat’s cradle plotting and the sheen of his explosive drama are dulled by the damnably empty personas and moments of expressive ordinariness. Spread over such a long piece these shortfalls become more noticeable. None-the-less Decree Absolute is a formidably robust tale which delivers what readers expect: gutsy action, scantily clad women, nasty villains and a plentiful quota of quick quips - there’s even a few token implausibles to argue over. It is, in fact, very much like a James Bond film and you can’t sing praise higher than that.