Tag Archives: Tom Trott

‘The Nice Guy and the Devil,’ by Tom Trott

If your great complaint about the world of thriller novels is that they all tend to look the same (and it’s often a valid complaint ), Tom Trott’s Cain novels might just be what you’re looking for. I’m not sure The Nice Guy and the Devil was my cup of tea, but it was definitely original.

Harrison Byers (known as “Cain”) is a Canadian, a former CIA operative (not sure how that works). He’s in Nice, France, enjoying the weather, when he notices a small, unprepossessing man asking clumsy questions about his “missing sister.” Cain figures him for an amateur trying to be a private eye. But when he notices the woman the man described sitting alone in a café, he can’t help introducing himself.

They make a date, but the unprepossessing man shows up at Cain’s apartment and commits suicide in front of them. The police come and arrest both him and the woman, and when they’re finally released they spend the night together. She asks him to accompany him to her daughter’s wedding the next day, and he figures why not? Little do they expect that the reception will be attacked by terrorists, one person kidnapped, and several others murdered. Cain sets off in pursuit, soon teaming up with a young Interpol agent who’s the daughter of an old friend.

The most surprising element in the story is Cain himself. He’s not your bog standard thriller hero. He’s middle-aged, bald and overweight (he actually wears a toupee and a girdle). But he still has his shooting skills and his fighting instincts, along with (sometimes insane) nerve. The story is packed with suspense and danger, the big twist at the end comes at you out of left field, and the conclusion is satisfying.

What annoyed me was the author’s habit of not describing characters until they’ve been on stage for a while. This is particularly aggravating when he fails to tell us the character’s race, and then makes race an issue. It’s as if he’s first saying, “Look how colorblind I am,” then turning and saying to the reader, “Why were you so racist as to assume they were white?”

On the other hand, there’s a devout Christian character in the book, and his faith is treated respectfully.

The Nice Guy and the Devil was a very neat thriller, capably plotted and written. I didn’t love it, but it was professionally done.

‘You Can’t Make Old Friends,’ by Tom Trott

He looked like a bullet standing on its end. And yet he was very calm, and came across altogether more thoughtful than the other two. That is to say, he came across as though he had thoughts.

In some ways, I’d have to say that Tom Trott’s private eye Joe Grabarz channels Philip Marlowe pretty well. He’s got the patter down, and a lot of the character. If the first Joe Grabarz novel, You Can’t Make Old Friends, didn’t entirely work for me, that’s very likely my own fault.

Joe Grabarz walks the mean streets of Brighton, the beach-front holiday town in England. As he describes it, it’s a little like a smaller New York City, where only the rich and the poor live. Joe definitely comes from the poor side, and he makes no secret of his grudge.

As the book starts, his private investigation business is in a slump. He used to help the police out; now he’s been blackballed. One of his clients is not only refusing to pay him, but suing him.

And then he’s asked to look at a body that’s washed up on the beach, and it’s a friend of his, Rory. Rory was his best friend in childhood, but they’ve been alienated since Rory became a drug addict and pusher. Still, he was a good guy once, and Joe’s going to get justice. On his own, if the law won’t do it.

His inquiries lead him to meet Rory’s sexy sister, whom he takes under his protection. And a beautiful woman cop who sparks off him like flint on steel. Respectable businessmen with lots of skeletons in their closets. And various thugs for beating up and getting beaten up by. In the end he’ll get a measure of justice, and a little redemption for Rory’s memory.

The writing in You Can’t Make Old Friends was good. Joe is an interesting character with a compelling voice. (He’s also very much opposed to drugs, even pot. I liked that.) What rubbed me the wrong way was the resentment in his voice, a persistent class envy. Class envy is understandable and forgivable, but it doesn’t make for pleasant company. So, regretfully, I don’t think I’ll continue this series.

You may like it better. Cautions for language, violence, and fairly graphic sex.