London: Fourth Estate, 527 pp., £8.99 (paper)
To delve into the world of Jeffrey Archer's imagination is a melancholy business. The cardboard heroes of his many novels, mostly men, but a few women too, are distinguished by lit-tle else than flaming ambition. Many of them are frauds, con men, secret philanderers, or undercover assassins. But even the more straightforward ones do not aspire to be prime minister or president of the United States for any particular purpose. They don't want to change the world or govern it better; to get to the top is the thing, the only thing.
Review, 4117 words
To read the full text of this piece, please choose one of the following options:
|
If you are already a subscriber to the Review's electronic edition, please sign in: |
To subscribe to the electronic edition, please press the button below. |
To purchase access to this article for $3, please press the button below. |