Just Finished Reading: The Guns of Heaven by Pete Hamill (FP: 1983)

Journalist Sam Briscoe has made a deal with his editor. For the price of a ticket to Switzerland to see his daughter he’ll go back to Northern Ireland and use his contacts there to write an inside story from the Catholic perspective. Meeting up with family members he is introduced to the new rising star in the IRA hierarchy and the two make an impression on each other. But when his uncle is killed by Protestant gunmen all Sam can think of is leaving and putting his past behind him – but an anger is building up inside and the IRA commander uses this to persuade Sam to carry a message back to the US. Arriving back in New York and good to his word Sam brings the message to a famous Irish pub, has a drink on the house and leaves. But as he reaches his car and looks back a huge explosion rocks the pub killing his contact and leaving the building in flames. Someone else, it seems, has followed Sam back and is intent of thwarting the IRA plans and Sam in right in the cross hairs. Confident he can take care of himself he thinks little of the danger he’s walked into – until a phone call and a familiar voice changes everything. A stranger’s voice wants the information Sam brought with him from Ireland and they have his daughter. The deal is a simple one – co-operate or she dies. But Sam has other ideas and not just for his daughter’s safety. If anything happened to her his ex-wife would never forgive him and she’s already pretty pissed off with him to begin with. 

For a journalist the main character here had quite a few hero qualities – he seemed to know everyone: IRA hitmen, US gangsters, the FBI and other law enforcement agencies, lawyers, hotel owners and a myriad of others all who seemed to owe him favours. He obviously had advanced driving tuition, was an army sharpshooter, amateur boxer, escape artist and well, you get the point…. He seemed to be able to out think, out drive, out run and out shoot everyone else in the book. Why his wife left him (apart from the fact that he never seemed to be around) was beyond me. He seemed perfect…. Which was, of course, a huge problem. He was just too perfect. The rest of the cast basically revolved around the main character and did things largely to move his story on with little regard to their own lives – such as they were. The whole tone of the book was as if the author had spent a lazy weekend reading a handful of magazine articles about the Troubles in Northern Ireland and, when no other ideas came to mind and his editor was bothering him for a book decided to write this one. I can’t say that I’m anywhere near an expert on Northern Irish politics but I still think I know more about the area than the author did. Romanticism just doesn’t start to describe the feel of the whole thing. Although it was just readable – in a comic book fashion – it had few redeeming qualities so I’m afraid that I won’t be recommending it to anyone. Poor.