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Miami, One Way/Razor Sharp
Miami, One Way
Razor Sharp
The blurb on the backs:
Miami, One Way:
Razor Sharp: opening lines:
Miami, One Way:
Razor Sharp:
When the Morecambe-and-Wise-lite team of Mike & Bernie Winters split up in 1978, Bernie stayed around on British TV, launching a new double-act with a dog named Schnorbitz. You probably remember them. Mike Winters, on the other hand, left the country and turned up in Miami as a businessman. A decade later he followed Eric Morecambe into the novel-writing game with this pair of books.
The two novels feature the same protagonist - and associated minor characters - and presumably were intended as a launch for a series of such volumes, though as far as I'm aware, there were no more to come. I'd certainly be surprised if there were any, because, although there's nothing actively embarrassing about the books, the man's simply not a writer.
Mind you, I didn't read either of them all the way through (did my best, but couldn't manage it), and I'm no authority on the thriller genre. But even if I'd been promised some truly gripping plot-construction in the latter parts of the books, I still doubt that I'd want to finish. The first problem is that it's written in the first-person and our narrator-hero is an American; for an Englishman to get that voice right is a difficult trick to pull off, a challenge not dissimilar to doing a gender switch. Certainly it's a step further that Mr Winters is able to take.
And then there's the fact that the prose is so flat and uninspired that it's simply not worth the effort. You try it:
She looked like an angel. No, that's kind of sloppy. I'll have to describe her. This tall, five-foot six or seven, young lady in her early twenties came into the bar and stood looking around. She was wearing tight blue jeans, and I mean tight, but she had the figure to get away with it. Her waisted beige blouse matched her cowboy boots. My eyes eventually left her shape and took in her bronzed face which was framed by long-fair hair streaked by the sun with gold - it may have been from a bottle, but I'm a romantic. A straight nose, attractively a little long, a full red mouth and wide, sparkling blue eyes. (Miami, One Way, p.25)
You see what I mean? Dreary, clichéd, and offering no temptation to read any further. The odd metaphor or two might have provided some leavening, but you're not going to get one here. The best idea in either book is having the hero visit London and offering his thoughts on how it differs from America - given that he's an American character being written by an Englishman, it could be quite an intriguing concept. Surely you don't need me to tell you that it doesn't come off?
ENTERTAINMENT VALUE: 1/5 HIPNESS QUOTIENT: 2/5
 Tommy Steele, The Final Run |
