A Thriller Out of Time
Frederick Forsyth has owned me for over
30 years, since The Day Of The Jackal
held me hostage for a sleepless week in boarding school. Forsyth has put me
ringside while World War III is averted, powerful bad guys are chastened with
vigor, and the value of committed individualism is repeatedly, gloriously affirmed.
But the Cold War verities which spawned
Forsyth’s career have given way. 9/11 showed you don’t need a Politburo to
direct large-scale destruction upon the West. Simple good/evil binaries between
freedom and Communism have been replaced by self-loathing democracies fed up with
their own capitalist excess.
New technology, like drones and instantaneous
eavesdropping, has made Forsyth’s dependency on isolated men of action seem
almost quaint, not to mention sexist and possibly homophobic.