Literary rating: ★★★★
Kick-butt quotient: ☆☆☆
Although this is the eighth book in the author’s trail-blazing (at the time it was written, action-oriented heroines were nowhere near as numerous in fiction as they are now) series, it’s the third that I’ve read. (Long story!) It was published in 1976; but in terms of the series’ internal chronology, just a few years have passed since the series opener. So in the book, it would still be the late 1960s, and protagonist Modesty is now about 28 years old. As is often the case, I would advise readers NOT to read the cover blurb. IMO, it discloses way too much information that’s better learned as O’Donnell chooses to gradually unfold it.
When the tale opens, we find Modesty and one of her (to use a contemporary term) “friends with benefits,” multimillionaire tycoon John Dall, enjoying a white-water canoeing excursion in the remote wilds of the Rocky Mountains, accompanied only by a 60-year-old Indian guide. It’s indicated that Dall would be glad to have a more committed relationship; but while Modesty has a lot of admirable qualities and makes a devoted friend, her hellish formative years left her with too damaged a psyche for committed romantic love. O’Donnell never made that any part of her character arc, so readers shouldn’t approach the books with that expectation (or hope!). Barely two pages into the story, though, their idyll is rudely interrupted by the appearance, seemingly out of nowhere, of two gun-toting thugs, who take the couple prisoner after brutally murdering their guide. This begins an adventure that will take us to more than one locale, but principally to the dense (and deftly-evoked) jungles of Guatemala, and which will involve mortal danger, intense mental and physical challenges, and a high body count.
An obvious question readers might ask is, does reading this out of order result in “spoilers” for the earlier books? I would say no, because Modesty’s adventures are each episodic and self-contained; and she and sidekick Willie don’t significantly change, either in their life circumstances or in terms of character growth. Some characters here do appear in earlier books: Sir Gerald Tarrant, for instance, is already introduced in the first book, and Steve and Dinah Collier are in the story A Perfect Night to Break Your Neck, included in the story collection Pieces of Modesty (which I did read previously), though that’s not their first appearance in the canon. The madman who calls himself (and actually believes that he is!) “Lucifer” is, I’m guessing, the title character of the third novel, I, Lucifer, and both Dall and British spy Maude Tiller have also apparently shown up before.
But while having read about them earlier would make them more familiar, all of these were depicted here with enough clarity and depth that I felt I knew them fully well as people. And while occasional references are made to previous adventures, the significance is explained in each case, and for me the effect was simply to whet curiosity, not spoil it. (Of course, it’s clear that Modesty emerged from these triumphant; but that’s a “spoiler” only if you don’t grasp the idea of the word “series….” :-) ) I’d recommend reading the first book before this one, to get a basic idea of who Modesty is, what her early life was like, and the Modesty-Willie dynamic; but otherwise, I don’t think it’s essential to read the earlier books first.
In terms of style and literary vision, this book felt, to me, very much of a piece with the two I’d read earlier. While he doesn’t write with the elaborate diction of his 18th-century Romantic predecessors, O’Donnell’s solidly in their literary camp with his use of exotic locales, extreme situations, and above all, frank appeals to the whole range of readers’ emotions. (In one revealing exchange, Dall tells Modesty she’s a “romantic,” whereupon she replies, “Of course I’m a romantic, dum-dum! And proud of it. There’s not enough of it about these days.”) His plotting is taut and well-constructed, with a good deal of suspense, a steady pace interspersed with frequent jeopardies and vivid action scenes. Modesty has to display her planning acuity and ingenuity as well as her fighting skill; and surviving and taking down the baddies here won’t be a cake-walk, since while she’s highly competent and a born leader, she’s not Superwoman. On the contrary, she’s very much a flesh-and-blood woman, who can bleed and cry (though she doesn’t like to do the latter in front of others); and she’ll do both before we close the book.
In contrast to the cynicism of much modern literature, despite the gritty milieu we find ourselves in here, O’Donnell’s vision is a solidly moral one. Our heroine (and Modesty is a heroine, not an anti-heroine) is pitted against villains who are radically evil, and while she, Willie and their friends have foibles, they basically have a solid and instinctive orientation towards the good. And O’Donnell knows that the basic dividing line between the two separates those who care about others and try to treat them decently, vs. those who care only about self and consider all other humans as things to be used. The author’s social message here isn’t loudly delivered; but we do get a clear look at both the misery the downtrodden in the Third World have suffered (and still do), and the reality that a fixation on vengeance rather than justice can make the oppressed a mirror image of the oppressors.
Content issues here aren’t too problematic, given the literary genre that this is. There’s some swearing and religious profanity (but no obscenity). There are no sex scenes, but there is reference to sexual activity, and it’s made clear that two of the principal villains are into kinky sex that involves inflicting extreme humiliation on women (though O’Donnell spares us any specifics). That such behavior exists in the world should (and does!) offend every decent human; that it’s depicted at all in a book will offend some readers. In the author’s defense on that score, I would say only that a mentality which freaks out on wielding power over other humans is realistically apt to also be reflected in warped sexuality; it warps every aspect of the personality. The language and sexual attitudes/behavior of most of the characters here are what would realistically be expected of secular folk who move in these kinds of circles. Indeed, while some readers would roll their eyes over using the term here, because of the unusual and extreme situation (“unusual,” though, is not the same thing as “impossible!”), I would say that O”Donnell depicts a wide range of life-like characters with very convincing realism, and that his characterizations are a strong point of the series.
Again, I’d recommend reading the series opener before reading this installment; but otherwise, I’d have no hesitation in recommending it to any reader who enjoyed the first book.
Author: Peter O’Donnell
Publisher: Souvenir Press; available through Amazon, currently only as a printed book.
A version of this review previously appeared on Goodreads.