linguistic flair
Linguistic flair
I’ve long been a fan of Robert Goddard‘s writing. His first novel, Past Caring, published in 1986 remains one of my all-time favourites.
He’s widely acclaimed as a ‘master of the clever twist ‘, ‘second to none when it comes to duplicity and intrigue’, a ‘master of manipulation’. He chooses difficult historical contexts and multiple geographical locations and languages, but manages to keep the suspense and tension going till the very end, somehow convincingly weaving authenticity together with fiction. But what’s seldom mentioned is his skill with language.
Found Wanting, which came out in 2008, is a complex roller coaster of a tale centring on the possible survival of Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna, the youngest daughter of Tsar Nicholas II, the last emperor of Russia. The family were executed in 1918 by Bolshevik revolutionaries, as we all know, but rumours continued to circulate that Anastasia escaped. Goddard has spun another yarn about a woman who claimed to be the royal escapee.
Far too many thrillers are sloppy with respect to grammar and language, so for me the joy of this book lay in the lovely turns of phrase scattered throughout Found Wanting. A few examples will best illustrate what I mean.
[The pelican crossing] bleeps and blinks in service to the dark-suited men and women crossing in both directions who are bound for their desks and work places in the ministries either side of Whitehall. Many already have their security passes dangling round their necks, their identities surrendered and declared, their working weeks about to begin in variations on an institutionalized theme.
In short, he possessed charm in abundance. But even abundance can be exhausted.
His top-floor room, set in the mansarded roof, gave him a wide-ranging view of numerous other roofs, but nothing else. The panorama of louring sky, domes, gables, slates, gutters, chimneys and fire-escapes was a metaphor for his plight. He could see a lot, but none of what really mattered.
Birgitte gave him a faintly sympathetic smile that hinted at a vivacious persona she left at home every morning.
‘Straub,’ said Lund, in a tone that suggested it was Danish for drain blockage.
A delight to read and savour.