Friday, 16 November 2012

Angelmaker


Angelmaker.  A novel crying out to be filmed.

Nick Harkaway’s  debut novel, The Gone Away World,  blew me away.   Once I had opened it I read nothing else until I reached the end.   The Gone Away World was witty, erudite, moving, fantastical and demanding.    Sadly, I cannot imagine how it could be filmed.  CGI has an amazing capacity to put visual wonders on the screen,  but the crucial action in this  novel has to take place in our heads, as we come to terms with the philosophical conundrum at its heart.  If you have read it you know why; if you haven’t, give it a try.  

When I  finished Harkaway’s first novel  I started waiting impatiently for his second.   Now it has arrived.   It is called Angelmaker and it is just as witty, erudite, moving, fantastical and demanding as its predecessor, but this time the narrative is imminently filmable.    

Joe, a peaceable giant of a clockmaker, is reluctantly recruited by a sprightly nonagenarian  ex-spy into a battle to save the world – or maybe the universe.  As the forces of Law are out of order he has to use not only the technical skills inherited from his grandfather to find and defuse a machine, designed to save humankind but in danger of destroying it,  but also the goodwill of the London underworld his father once ruled to fight the forces of darkness.   On the way he discovers that his dark side isn’t so dark, and that he has earned the love of a good, albeit unconventional, woman.    

Nick Harkaway is one of David Cornwell’s sons.   Cornwell, of course, writes as John le Carre.    Nick’s genes or nurture have given him the ability to write well, research deeply, and create fully realized characters.   But Angelmaker shows another aspect of the Cornwell line.   There is righteous indignation here.     In le Carre’s  spy novels there ran a deep current of outrage,  a disillusionment at the way good men and women were used in that war and then betrayed by the State, or misled into  believing that the cause they spied and fought for was just and moral.    That disillusionment was perhaps written out most starkly in The Secret Pilgrim.   When the Cold War ground to a halt le Carre lacked a subject that engaged this moral passion.  He wrote some competent thrillers, The Night Manager, Single & Single, et cetera, but it was not until The Constant Gardener that he blazed again.       Angelmaker is not a campaigning book in the way of  The Constant Gardner and The Mission Song, but there are still glimmers here of le Carre’s  sharp indignant edge.  

Harkaway has included agents of the State in the cast of Angelmaker, and his hero comes to see that despite their protestations ‘the end does not justify the means.  The end never comes, the means just carry on.’   As we now know, the means justified or ignored by the highest powers include lies, rendition, torture and murder.  

So there is a beating moral heart to Angelmaker, but there is also a lot of fun in this  picaresque, almost Dickensian, 21st century Steam-Punk fantasy, crammed full of juicy dialogue delivered by male and female characters who leap off the page and would surely leap off the screen if embodied by some of our fine British character actors.    It is a Casting Director’s dream.     So I hope that some literate film-maker is looking hard at Angelmaker.   Do read it, see if you agree, and if you do, why not start a whispering campaign? 

Angelmaker  by Nick Harkaway is published by William Heinemann.  London.

Bob Vernon.