Sometimes I feel like a glutton for punishment. There are evenings when, depending on my mood, I’ve lost all taste for books on hospitality or whatever else I’m studying, and I just want to read a good ol’ caper. Sadly, “good” isn’t always what I get.

I purchased a small lot of Alistair MacClean‘s books at a garage sale last year, because at that point I had recently finished reading The Black Shrike (1961) and was moderately impressed by an author that reminded me of Clive Cussler, whom I’ve long enjoyed. Up to that point, I hadn’t yet read Golden Gate (1976), so wasn’t yet aware of how bland MacClean’s “adventures” could get, so I bought what I could, hoping to have found yet another favorite author.

Golden Gate should have given it away to me, though, that MacLean wrote his best stories early on (Where Eagles Dare, The HMS Ulysses, etc.) and was working on fumes the last few decades of his life. Goodbye, California was published two years after Golden Gate, and now that I’ve read them both, I think they fall within the same mix.

I imagine that MacClean sat down at his typewriter, laid out his tried-and-true formula, changed the names, locations, and threats, and went at it. His formula includes an arrogant madman holding the world hostage whilst maintaining the “perfect” escape plan (a plan that ultimately backfires because of its childish simplicity), a stubborn cop or agent with more brains than morals, and an angry bureaucracy whose rules threaten to let the bad guy get away with it all. In fact, I think MacLean’s murderous villains seem to have more integrity and nobility than his heroes (in that they know the rules and expect both sides to follow them)—and this annoys me most, though I wouldn’t have noticed that truth had I not sat down to consider it!

MacClean’s writing is OK, though I don’t think “OK” is good enough for someone of his international stature. I find his stories unnecessarily wordy, focusing on details that should have been scrapped in exchange for a more intricate plot. His build-ups take so long, and the climax is so short, I almost feel jilted by the end. The climax of this book was literally 9 pages out of 310, the ultimate face-off of hero and villain taking just a single page. I’m not asking for monologues or diatribes, of course, but he at least needs to include some build-up to the climax or some counterattacks therein. There’s no suspense here, no thrill. Ryder saves the world with three shots, and that’s that.

Inside the book, I thought there was some interesting science about earthquakes and a few exciting scenes, but again, way too short. The tsunami that hits San Francisco certainly could have extended for more pages than it did, but by now, I don’t expect MacClean to give his readers what they want. He spent ten pages describing how the scientists love their Glenfiddich whiskey, and gave us two for the destruction of an American city by a man-made tsunami. Not surprising.

This may be the last MacClean book I read, unless it’s one of his earlier offerings, which is too bad, since I’ve got a few more on my shelves. Next time I’m in the mood for an adventure novel from the ’70s, I’ll have to return to the tried-and-true Cussler and call it a day. [Editor’s note: I did try another MacLean book, Ice Station Zebra (1963), which was older and far better than this.]

©2022 E.T.

Read More from Alistair MacLean:

• HMS Ulysses (1955)
• The Black Shrike (1961)
• Ice Station Zebra (1963)
• The Golden Gate (1976)
• Goodbye, California (1978)
• Air Force One Is Down (1981)