Is this the very painting of our fear?

There was a moment when reading "Winterland" by Alan Glynn that I began to sit up and take notice...
a lot of notice...

The text flows seamlessly as a thriller.. moments of calm, lulling the reader,
followed by vigorous, often violent activity.


Then it hit me...

Why is everybody in Glynn's universe so very bloody scared?


How many women in Dublin, confronted with a sexist and intrusive taxi driver
reflect on the possible danger they are in?

"... what do they expect her to say? Yeah, bud, I'm well locked, me,
no self-control at all, so pull in anywhere that's
convenient for you there and off we go?"

The thirty-something year old heroine reminds me of so many Dublin women I have met. Hearts of gold and a quick tongue.
Young friends visiting Ireland have been astonished at the strength of the
women they meet. "The language" is commented on, often with rolling eyes
and a worried gaze. Gina Rafferty is a Dubliner to the core.
Faced with a problem, she does not sit down for interminable cups of tea
as her Culchie cousins might, but sets to with a will of iron to uncover
"the truth".


Leaving no stone unturned and no scrubbed laptop unscrutinized
she unleashes a Pandora's box of revelations, cross-references, hidden associations, misunderstandings,
all leading to corruption in high places.
Here is an unlikely detective in a world where professional crimologists
have ceased to do their job.


So far, reviewers and bloggers have tended to reflect on
the crime aspect of the novel. They stick to a simple social phenomenon,
the demise of the Celtic Tiger economy and the dramas it has caused.

Marriage leading to property deals,
money swaying the public purse in the direction of private gain,
anger and aggression unleashed when people are cheated
of their rights.

...
The outsider married into a political family;
the young man deprived of his rightful inheritance,
the young woman resistant to her role as soothsayer...
a tale often told.

It could be anywhere, any time.


The Irish twist to the story, however,
is illuminated by the astonishing presence of Dublin as a very real place
and by the metaphorical high-rise development, Winterland,
whose shadow looms over the cityscape.

Dublin, in "Winterland" is a veritable
Tower of Babel, with 'phones ringing...
not being answered... being answered by the wrong people... where email messages float by unnoticed
by those whose lives are being manipulated
by their contents.

The reader is enmeshed in a world described
as the Mythos of Winter by Northrop Frye
The Guardian reviewer (hit the title bar)
thought that there was a falling off in power
towards the end. I don't think this is so
and some of the most vivid encounters are fully
developed and described with a truly visual
skill.

At the launch of "Winterland", Mr Glynn revealed much of the subtle
sense of humour that permeates his finely written book.
"We are all paranoiacs now", he said.
That, I hope, was an elegant joke...