December 1959
Nobody gets swiped with scimitars nowadays for failing to entertain, and if the penalties for dull story-telling are less than they used to be, it is likely that the valuation of success in that field is comparably diminished. Which is only to say that highbrow people sometimes pretend to despise stories which, mysteriously, is very discouraging for good story-writers. So before pretending to dislike anything, remember how writers of all kinds - like people - urgently need unlimited approval. When the approval is actually merited they need it less, but then it is somehow more fun to give …
How enjoyable it is, then, to know on the first page of a book which sets out to tell a good story, that its author knows his business - that he can present a curious or unlikely sequence of events so smoothly that one is delighted to accept them; that he can use coincidence - like pepper - simply to heighten the accidents of his tale, and most of all, that he is able to keep characters in their place as mere pawns in the game - they can be subjected to danger, fear, and death, and one is simply fascinated - one does not mind at all.
Mr. Eric Ambler fulfils all the exacting obligations of a good story: this one is about two American tourists who get dangerously involved in smuggling some ornaments from Malay into Indonesia via a number of gentlemen who regard this activity as a good financial risk. What is most charming about the shape of the book is that the originator of the plot - a little Indian called Girija Krishnan, who discovers the cache of arms and is determined to profit by them, is moved by a long-cherished dream to run a European bus service in the remote Malay district where he lives. To this end he employs his own patience, great ingenuity, a certain amount of courage, and other people’s cupidity, stupidity and false notions of themselves. Not the least of Mr. Ambler’s accomplishments is the ability to write, in English, dialogue which is being spoken in another tongue so well that one has the impression that one is reading Malay or Chinese. But this book, like so many Amblers, is stamped with the hallmark of apparent ease - there is nothing to it, really, you just have to be Mr. Ambler.