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Showing posts with label Hammond Innes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hammond Innes. Show all posts

Friday, 8 August 2025

TARGET ANTARCTICA - Book review

Hammond Innes followed up his novel Isvik (1991) with this sequel, Target Antarctica, in 1993.

As usual, it’s a first person narrative, by Falklands War hero Ed Cruse, having just ignominiously left the RAF. After some shilly-shallying he’s given a job to fly a stranded C-130 Hercules aircraft off an Antarctic iceberg. The reasons are not made clear until near the end of the book. There is a subplot involving one of the interested parties, the tragic if exotic La Belle, which provides a depth of character lacking in a number of the others. Indeed, it is her past that provides the only real fraught conflict.

Ed Cruse is likeable – as are all his first-person protagonists; though I suspect he could be a danger on the roads: he drinks and drives! He had two Bloody Marys and then had a coffee and a couple of large brandies and drove through London in his Jag... (pp138-139)!

I’ve read and enjoyed several books by Innes and found this showed his strengths in putting the reader in the story with believable descriptions. Yet, sadly, it lacked something and I felt the ending was rushed.

If this is your first introduction to Innes and you found it unsatisfactory, do try some of his earlier novels before forsaking his work; you will be rewarded.

Thursday, 2 May 2024

THE LONELY SKIER - book review

 


The Lonely Skier was Hammond Innes’s tenth published novel (1947).

Neil Blair, the narrator, is recently demobbed, unemployed, married to Peggy, and penniless. He stumbles upon a job with an old Army comrade – writing a screenplay set in the Italian Dolomites. Though in fact the screenplay has been written already by his pal, Engles; what his friend wants is for Neil to ‘keep your eyes and ears open. I’m interested in the slittovia [sledge lift] and the hut, the people who are staying there, regular visitors, anything unusual that happens’ (p10). Apparently the rifugio [ski lodge] Col da Varda, near Cortina, and the slittovia were previously owned by a German War Criminal, who has since committed suicide. The place is up for sale: ‘an incredibly beautiful property, thoroughly equipped by brilliant German engineers, a small hotel with finer panoramic views than the Eagle’s Nest at Berchtesgaden’ (p40).

Neil is accompanied by photographer Joe Wesson. They are others stay at the refugio: a hot-tempered Italian Contessa Forelli, a racketeering pimp, Stefan Valdini, a Greek criminal, Karamikos, and the mysterious worldly Gilbert Mayne.

Neil is witness to the conflicting personalities of these characters in the claustrophobic situation and begins to realise that something is very wrong. Dangerous. Even deadly. And stemming from the recent inglorious past. Ultimately, he is pitted against someone who is determined to kill – and he is among those targeted!

As ever, Innes brings his descriptive powers to bear on the story. He underwent a skiing course in the Dolomites a while before writing the book. The narrative is swamped in verisimilitude; the reader is there. Naturally, as it’s a first-person story, we know he will survive. But others are in jeopardy, not least the likeable if clueless Wesson.

The book was made into a film titled Snowbound – ‘Another few hours and we’ll be snowbound up here’ (p99). Dated 1948, the film featured Robert Newton, Dennis Price, Stanley Holloway, Herbert Lom, and Zena Marshall, among others.

Oddly, throughout the book the spelling is ski-er, while the title is hyphen-less.

It’s not a true spoiler since it is mentioned in the back cover blurb: ‘It lies somewhere beneath the snow, high in the Dolomites, Nazi gold, tainted with the blood of murdered men’. The gold is in essence Hitchcock’s McGuffin. Some of the chapter headings come very close to being spoilers in themselves.

Talking of spoilers, in this Vintage copy there’s an introduction by Stella Rimington; don’t read this first, read the novel then the intro.

As covers go, it's okay, but I prefer the 1980s Fontana colourful renditions.

Thursday, 9 April 2015

FFB - The Strange Land

Hammond Innes enjoyed huge popularity in the 1950s through to the 1970s, though his output began in 1937 and continued up to his death in 1998. He travelled with his wife to out-of-the-way places and wrote about them with authority. His protagonist was narrator, usually an honourable ordinary man thrust into extraordinary situations or places. His style makes the reader believe that the narrator was there, and The Strange Land (1954) is no exception.

This was Innes’ seventeenth book, based on his travels in Morocco in 1952. It’s set at that time, just before Morocco gained independence from France and Spain in 1956 and Sidi Mohammed ben Youssef became King Mohammed V.

One aspect from these older books is the legend on the copyright page – ‘First issued in Fontana Paperbacks 1964, Twentieth impression July 1988.’ That shows how popular this book was, in its day. Now, we have no idea how many times a book has been published or re-issued. This is one of several uniform re-issues with matching wrap-around covers, attractive and collectible in their own right (see a few below).

Innes is always strong on atmosphere and character interaction. Philip Latham, ex-smuggler turned missionary is waiting in Tangier for the arrival of a doctor to join his mission in the Atlas Mountains. While waiting, he encounters the secretive woman Karen and the unpleasant Greek, Kostos, both having their own agenda relating to the same boat the doctor is sailing on. The weather is bad, and the storm claims the life of one of the two men on the boat. Latham saves the second man and is immediately plunged into a world of mystery, intrigue and deceit.

The mission is important to Latham; he needs a doctor to help the poor who fall prey to disease. Yet the survivor from the sunken craft is intent on first going to Kasbah Foum, deep in the desert country of the Berbers, where there’s believed to be an ancient silver mine.  On the way, they meet up with the brave and honourable Frenchman, Legard, an officer of the Affairs Indigenes, and American Ed White who has his reasons for seeking out Kasbah Foum too. Added to the mix, the brother and sister team of Julie and George, and Ali, the wily son of the local chieftain, Caid Hassan, which provides all the ingredients for a satisfying adventure.
 

 

 

Thursday, 26 December 2013

Book list - 1966

What was I reading so long ago? Does it matter? Trends and general interests change. The early 1960s, thanks to Dr No et al, was crammed full with espionage thrillers, many of which have indeed withstood the test of time. There were plenty of good popular mainstream writers available in paperback, too, and most paperback lists contained a generous sampling of science fiction and westerns. Eventually, spy books would make way for crime thrillers and both the western and the sci-fi books would end up in ghettoes for several years.

Wreckers must Breathe is an unusual submarine spy adventure from Hammond Innes (which has just been reissued as a Vintage Classic). In contrast, I read Up the Junction, social realism in fiction, depicting the lives of Ruby, Lily and Sylvie in 1960s London (now reissued as a Virago Modern Classic). Having read the previous two volumes, I now finished That Hideous Strength, the conclusion of C.S. Lewis’ science fiction Cosmic Trilogy: the hero Mark is a Sociologist who is enticed to join an organisation called N.I.C.E. which aims to control all human life (Hmm… nothing to do with the current named organisation, of course!)
 
Harold Robbins’ The Carpetbaggers, which I found quite remarkable; two films evolved from its pages. It interlinked lives over decades; I feel that, along with A Stone for Danny Fisher, it’s one of his best, before he deteriorated into lazy writing and excessive sex scenes.
 
Death on the Prairie is a sweeping narrative of the Indian wars on the western plains by Paul I Wellman. Part of the blurb on Amazon, which sums it up well, states: 'There is never a quiet page as Wellman describes the Sand Creek Massacre (1864), the Fetterman Massacre (1866), the Battle of the Washita (1868), the Battle of Adobe Walls (1874), the Battle of the Little Big Horn (1876), the Nez Perce War (1877), the Meeker Massacre (1879), and the tragedy at wounded Knee (1890) that ended the fighting on the plains. Celebrated chiefs (Red Cloud, Crazy Horse, Black Kettle, Satanta, Joseph, Ouray, Sitting Bull) clash with army officers (notably Custer, Sheridan, Miles, and Crook), and uncounted men, women, and children on both sides are cast in roles of fatal consequence...'

I enjoyed Isaac Asimov’s original Foundation trilogy, and felt it came to a satisfying conclusion – though some years later, he embarked on additional books in the series.

Trial by Terror is by an author now hardly read, yet he was big in his day, Paul Gallico. He couldn’t easily be pigeonholed. This book was about an American reporter imprisoned as a spy by the Hungarian authorities. I was reading it as research for future writing. Gallico created Hiram Holliday – there was a comedy TV series about this character. He wrote Thomasina, the Mrs Harris adventures, The Small Miracle, The Snow Goose, The Poseidon Adventure and The Hand of Mary Constable, and my favourite, Scruffy, an amusing tale about an ape of Gibraltar during WWII.
 
1066 And All That by Sellar and Yeatman. History as it wasn’t, tongue in cheek, and still funny. Followed by a darkly humourous classic, Catch 22 by Joseph Heller.

There was little humour in King Rat by James Clavell. I’d already been won over by his monumental Tai Pan. Rat was in complete contrast, drawing upon his own experiences as a POW under the Japanese. The film never did it justice.
 
I continued to read Dennis Wheatley’s books, notably his Gregory Sallust adventures. He was a fictional spy even before James Bond came on the scene. The Scarlet Imposter (took place in August-November 1939, and was published in 1940), Faked Passports, The Black Baronness, V for Vengeance, and Come into my Parlour. I also read his Richleau novel set in WWII, Codeword Golden Fleece and his extraordinary Ka of Gifford Hillary.
 
At this time, some Edgar Rice Burroughs manuscripts were being released in paperback apparently for the first time, so I grabbed them from WH Smith’s at Waterloo Station on the way home on leave - Tarzan and the Madman, Tarzan and the Castaways and The Chessmen of Mars.

I still enjoyed Leslie Charteris’ Saint books and read The Saint’s Getaway and The Saint Meets His Match (previously titled She was a Lady).

And I discovered a new thriller writer, Gavin Lyall, with his two adventures The Most Dangerous Game and The Wrong Side of the Sky. He drew on his experience as an RAF pilot to pen adventure stories that usually involved dangerous flying missions in exotic places by cynical young men of dubious morals. He was married to columnist/author Katherine Whitehorn.
 

As is quite obvious, I was keen on spy books. I’d read a number by Helen MacInnes by this time. She was dubbed ‘The Queen of Spy Writers’ and the title was well deserved. This year I read The Venetian Affair, a classic cold war espionage thriller. Titan Books has recently reprinted her books in attractive covers.
 
My Bones and My Flute (1955) is a haunting ghost story by Edgar Mittelholzer, an author I discovered with the book Kaywana Stock and others in the plantation series, which are sadly hard to get hold of these days...

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service and You Only Live Twice, as well as The Real World of Spies, revelations about spying in the early days of the Cold War; pretty tame by later accounts. And Understrike, the second adventure of Boysie Oakes by John Gardner, an author who subsequently took on the task of writing new James Bond thrillers. Also, Deighton’s Funeral in Berlin (1964), the third in the unnamed hero series (Harry Palmer in the movies); I saw the film in the same year.

The Moving Target (1949), Ross MacDonald’s first novel to feature his sleuth Lew Archer. MacDonald is justly highly regarded. The 1966 film of this book starred Paul Newman, scripted by William Goldman.
 
The Ginger Man, J.P. Donleavy’s 1955 novel (once banned in Ireland and the USA for obscenity).  

I was still reading non-fiction, mainly about war escapades: among them, Escape Alone (We Die Alone), The Dam Busters, The Frogmen, I Will Survive, and Mark of the Lion, the incredible story about Charles Upham who won the Victoria Cross twice! He was a sheep farmer who fought in the war, won his medals and then went back to his sheep.

Overload (1959), Undertow (1962), Shockwave (1963) and Feramontov (1966), novels in the Johnny Fedora series by Desmond Cory; greatly underrated, regarded as 'the thinking man's James Bond'..