A review of 'The Cobra' by Frederick Forsyth
Note: The following review was originally published at Amazon.co.uk on 15th. July 2017. Link to original review: https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/customer-reviews/RCOEK6NDB7XVS?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srphttps://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/customer-reviews/R10SRUTBUTMJN6?ref=pf_ov_at_pdctrvw_srp
On hearing of the tragic death of the grandson of one of his staff, the President of the United States (implied to be Barack Obama) decides one evening that something must be done about the illegal cocaine trade. The government enlists a shadowy former intelligence agent and military expert called Paul Devereaux, nicknamed Cobra, who comes up with a plan that basically involves crushing the illicit trade militarily, thereby causing a cocaine drought in the hope that this destroys the industry forever, or at least for a very long time.
To the casual observer, Devereaux might seem the antithesis of Forsyth's signal novelistic character, The Jackal, however the two are very much alike. Both are determined, amoral loners who research their quarry thoroughly; both are calculating and wary of rash action; both are ruthless and willing to take whatever measures are necessary to meet an objective.
Frederick Forsyth is a celebrated popular fiction writer, but his reputation has always run on vapours from The Jackal. The Cobra is a bad novel, written in the pedestrian style found in most of Forsyth's output. It's screenplay writing, fodder for dentists' waiting rooms. The Cobra could have been a gripping yarn about the illegal narcotics industry. The character of Devereaux, in particular, had great potential and could have been fascinating. With his eponymous nickname, I had in mind a sort of rogue, pirate-type with snake tattoos, whose real name isn't Devereaux (we never find out his true identity, but there are flashbacks), and who has inside knowledge of the cocaine business, having worked in it himself - with the scars to prove it. He is then recruited by a shadowy government agency, who never reveal themselves. Throughout the novel, Devereaux wonders about his employers and eventually realises they are a rival drug gang. That sort of plot would have taken things to a whole other level.
As it is, Forsyth's plot doesn't really go anywhere, the story is unimaginative, the characters are clichéd cut-outs, and the writing is so poor at times that it almost seems as if the author was bored. As ever with Forsyth, the research is excellent, but no amount of technical knowledge of the subject can make up for bad writing.
To the casual observer, Devereaux might seem the antithesis of Forsyth's signal novelistic character, The Jackal, however the two are very much alike. Both are determined, amoral loners who research their quarry thoroughly; both are calculating and wary of rash action; both are ruthless and willing to take whatever measures are necessary to meet an objective.
Frederick Forsyth is a celebrated popular fiction writer, but his reputation has always run on vapours from The Jackal. The Cobra is a bad novel, written in the pedestrian style found in most of Forsyth's output. It's screenplay writing, fodder for dentists' waiting rooms. The Cobra could have been a gripping yarn about the illegal narcotics industry. The character of Devereaux, in particular, had great potential and could have been fascinating. With his eponymous nickname, I had in mind a sort of rogue, pirate-type with snake tattoos, whose real name isn't Devereaux (we never find out his true identity, but there are flashbacks), and who has inside knowledge of the cocaine business, having worked in it himself - with the scars to prove it. He is then recruited by a shadowy government agency, who never reveal themselves. Throughout the novel, Devereaux wonders about his employers and eventually realises they are a rival drug gang. That sort of plot would have taken things to a whole other level.
As it is, Forsyth's plot doesn't really go anywhere, the story is unimaginative, the characters are clichéd cut-outs, and the writing is so poor at times that it almost seems as if the author was bored. As ever with Forsyth, the research is excellent, but no amount of technical knowledge of the subject can make up for bad writing.
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