Book review: Linwood Barclay has a great time on Look Both Ways

Author, Linwood Barclay. Picture: Maura Hickey.

• Look Both Ways
• Linwood Barclay
• Harper Collins, €13.99

THE most striking thing about Look Both Ways is how different it is from Linwood Barclay’s other novels. Do not anticipate something similar to No Time For Goodbye, his most successful and arguably most accomplished book. Unlike that thoughtful novel, Look Both Ways concerns itself more with action, and has obvious templates like Peter Benchley’s Jaws and Stephen King’s Christine.

Change of genre notwithstanding, Barclay of course remains an experienced and competent writer. His ability to expertly, almost slyly manipulate his audience is still there. Although he still deals in violence and death, the tone is noticeably lighter. The gravitas he achieved elsewhere is absent here. There is little contemplation, reflection — no philosophical musing. The focus is always on what happens next.

This is an episodic novel, hugely tense, heavily in thrall to cliffhangers. The twists are relentless. It is very much engaged with technology, is futuristic with more than a hint of dystopia. Most fundamentally, it views action as of paramount importance.

At its best it is anarchic and very eccentric, good fun at times in its vivid but arguably implausible way. Barclay is clearly having a great time, and his enthusiasm can be infectious. The foreword makes it clear that this is a project of personal significance for him. However if you do not share his fascination for cars, there is too much detail and repetition here.

That said, this novel is not a failure. The writing is always competent and often effective. The novel is pacey, propulsive, tense, and menacing. Creating and — even more crucially — sustaining tension is Barclay’s speciality and he achieves it again here. What is missing is the substance of his better work. Even allowing for the obsession with action set pieces, the characterisation is paper-thin.

ACCESSIBLE

Consequently it proves difficult to care about the characters as much as Barclay clearly wants us to.

The lines of good and evil he draws up here are far too rigid. Elsewhere he has shown an interest in nuance, in ambiguity, in moral shades. Not here though. Plucky heroes and cartoon villains dominate. They selfishly dictate events, or strongly react to them.

Even by the standards of action novels, the supporting characters are disconcertingly one note. Ultimately then, despite its length, the novel feels thin.

What does help with these failings is that Barclay’s brisk, accessible style is never difficult to read. There is technical skill in his assured description of one eventful, chaotic, astonishing day. The bizarre premise involves self-driving cars who — thanks to a virus downloaded by the novel’s odious main villain — turn into killers. An unlikely but deadly rampage ensues. Obviously, this teeters dangerously on the brink of downright silliness but Barclay makes a valiant, admirable attempt to pull it off. His knowing, sardonic flashes of black humour help.

We move, essentially, from one action set piece to another, with the tension escalating. As we approach the final section we realise an epic twist is almost inevitable. Barclay has a way with dramatic endings. He doesn’t disappoint here. We have been spectacularly wrong about a key character. The revelation is genuinely surprising but you simultaneously realise that it makes perfect narrative sense.

Like all the best twists it forces us to re-evaluate earlier events in a new light. This subterfuge is diverting, and sets up a strong finish to this effective but not wholly satisfying novel.